I'm a big journal writer. I'm talking about the old fashioned pen-on-paper kind of journal. I've been writing in it since I was 7. I've been going through the hardest time I have ever faced, and I just realized I haven't written down one word of it in my journal. I've also realized the reason that I haven't written it down is because, by writing it down, spelling it out, it is all really happening. It can't really be happening.
Boober isn't really gone. I'm not pregnant when I can't imagine how I can handle a baby. My boyfriend of 8 years didn't break up with me in the middle of all of this because he needs to be alone. I'm not preparing for him to move out of our home. Since that isn't happening, my mom isn't obligated to uproot her life to come live with me.
I'm not scared, lonely, heartbroken, guilt ridden, or depressed. Thank god none of this is really happening.