February 7th, Year 20

I am assured that I will regain medical coverage, at the beginning of next month. If memory serves me right, it was only days ago those same words were spoken, by that same woman. I am beginning to believe she finds humor, in giving people false hope.

I float by in haze, then I am pulled down only for punishment. I have been a terrible human being, and all sins are to be heavily fined. All transgressions are noticed, and penalized. Life is lived in a state of panic. The hours are filled with psychological terror, and physical agony. I know nothing of peace, of what it means to rest. These child’s shoes are to remain small, for she will never grow. It seems I died a long time ago, and am only here as someone’s awful memory. I was meant to be horrible. I was meant to cause what I experience. I do not give what I am given out of wrath, but because it is all I know, all I am familiar with. Pills will not cure this, will not alleviate it, even temporarily.

February 7th, Year 20

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