3:37 17/3/22

It's a change, I suppose. I have slept at 0100, and woken at 0330 rather than 4. It's a strange thing sleeping so little; there's a part of me that is becoming increasingly fatigued, but I always wake now, and I wake and think of you.

It isn't pleasant. It's not something that feels kind. I feel a regret and grief, and a quite profound absence. My heart is beating in slight physical pain, it's only 69 BPM but I can feel each throb in my chest. I don't know if today's early waking is the knowledge that I'm leaving today, or just the impact of the atomoxetine on my sleep. I do know that today it's intense.

I'm trying to be happy without you, and for the first time I'm increasingly desperate to be for my own survival. I'm leaving a psych ward, I've been medicated for ADHD, and I have no more cards to play. I also know that it might not even help to talk to you, and that the thing I'm mourning is the presence of an intimacy and, now, probably for you a love that died somewhere down the road.

I miss you, and I miss us, and I know that I can't tell you that without hurting you, and without making you want to be further from me. When we talked I was so desperate because when I talked you were repelled, but every time I didn't talk to you you were less happy to speak to me for the time away. I don't even know if I'll send you this blog on my death, or if even knowing me and how I felt now is unfair. It isn't your fault if I die. I'm trying so hard to be okay, and I don't know in these 0400 moments if I can be.

More than wanting anything for us together in life, more than knowing each other or your forgiveness, I want at least one of us to be happy. No matter what it takes, and no matter if I have to never talk directly to you again.

Even possibly not surviving, at heart and above all I love you. If you read this, I want you to know that was and is always true.

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