Eventually I scribbled in my notebook: ‘Holy [expletive] I can’t concentrate on what anyone’s saying. Ants all over me.’
These ants are my greatest nightmare.
I’ve been trying to figure out if my emotions were depression or PMS. And I think crying to the “Wicked” soundtrack means it’s just PMS. Because nobody sits around and cries to soundtracks to Broadway plays.
My friend David pulls me out when I’m lost inside my brain. I’m so glad to have him in my life. So glad. So very glad.