Despair.

That’s the best way I can think to describe this feeling. I feel like I’m running through water and I’m so fucking tired. I’ve cried every night for two weeks. Dirty secret: I got bed bugs. Or maybe they came with the house, I don’t fucking know. All I know is that of all the things that I can handle and deal with, this isn’t it. I’ve worked so fucking hard to finally get new furniture and a nice house and keep it clean and then this. And even though they came and treated, I know they’re in my other bedroom, but the original guys won’t believe me. My therapist doesn’t even believe me – and that stung. I want someone to get how much this fucking sucks to me. It may not be the end of the world, but it fucking feels that way right now. I’m exhausted from packing my shit up and my family’s supposed to come next weekend and all my shit’s in bags and I’m fucking depressed – and it feels like no one gets it. I’ve barely treading water at work because I don’t have the energy to do it. I just don’t have the energy to care about someone else’s shit right now and faking it is even more exhausting. I want this nightmare to be over with. I want the stupid mattress cover off my bed so I’m not sweating my balls off at night. I want to sit on my couch again – I think it’s safe, but trying to prevent the spread. I want my things back where they belong. I want my space to be clean again. I want someone to come and fucking tell me it’s all gonna be okay and hug me and feel this with me, because it sucks doing this alone.