why bother.

Britten speaks to my soul.

The only guarantee in life is death, usually with a side of pain thrown in by the universe just to spite you for trying to be a good human being.

You're goddammit right it hurts. Sometimes, simply existing hurts.

This exists because I can not say this to anyone I know. There is nobody I can be honest with. So you, unsuspecting Internet stranger, get to gloss over this and pass it off as some angsty teenager's ramblings. Except this would be so much easier to deal with if I was a teenager.

I have a therapist I can't talk to. No amount of training can allow a person to comprehend experiences of others and the impacts those experiences make on lives. I want to talk to you, but I can't. I have to guard myself against people seeing ME.

It's ok.

- Waking up, having your appendages used for sexual favors, not having any pleasure given to you.

It's fine.

It's not like we're married or anything. It's not like we've had any sex in the last... I don't even know how many months. My doctor wonders why I'm so tense that I require Soma to be able to lay down at night.

This is shit.