I'm all he's got but I can't remember the last time I woke up to my actual everyday life and wanted to live it. I just have to, so I make my bed etc. I have to believe that deep down, I'd miss life if it were over so I keep going until a taste for it comes back (🙏) He must believe that too 🤏 or he wouldn't be in a psych ward voluntarily right now. He chased me away after the intake, which was excruciating. He's one of the few reasons I still want to live, and he wants to die very much. It was horribly clear that we are both mostly still breathing for the other one, or we'd both have stopped this summer. So much so that they looked at me like you aren't looking too good either and said a lot of borderline "(don't off yourself ft) keep your phone on" things to me. My primary wanted to put me in the hospital he's going to months ago. But. Not wanting to wake up isn't the same as having a detailed plan to off myself. Miserable doesn't qualify, everybody is miserable, that's just breathing these days. Once he moves in here, which seems inevitable now except for the fucking cat, we'll be a suicide pact waiting to happen. 

Something has to very seriously change IMMEDIATELY. But what? HOW?

Someday, I hope the fact that he walked in there, right down the street from where I work, in the only clean tshirt I had, my new union shirt emblazoned with my employer's name and FACULTY written on the back in HUGE letters - someday, I hope that's funny. Sure isn't funny today 😭