I now have PTSD. Gee that’s great.
The Morning After
When we are ill, distressed and fretful the last thing we need is to be told there is no room at the inn to be seen mention you are ill and you’re in danger of making matters infinitely worse. This is the age of excess and through our selfish idiocy we make matters worse, infinitely worse. I am petrified; have been so petrified of never getting help that I cried every day I woke up until I couldn’t do that any more. My words are running dry, I seek no one, want no one to the point of not welcoming any at all. Not a word has ironically become the best salvation of all. communication at all.