Blech...
So... I thought maybe if I shoved the whole situation and all of its complications into some far off place in my mind that maybe - just maybe - it would disappear and I wouldn't have to deal with it. Unfortunately, the other end didn't hold up the unspoken deal. For months I've dreaded this, hoping it wouldn't happen, but half knowing it would. Now I have to face what I've put off, when if I would have just dealt with it in the first place, I definitely wouldn't be having this problem. However, I didn't sort it out then, so I have to endure the sickening feeling the stress has hurled into my stomach. Splendid, right? Wrong. The whole ordeal has turned into something so completely miserable... utterly dreadful.... and incredibly... BAD. Sweet.
Just shoot me. Please. (Not the TV show... I'm asking that someone please put a bullet hole in my body... preferably some where that will make a difference - or at least give me some sense.)
Please, God. I need a sign. And... the sooner the better, please.