Sort of like being a Councillor, I guess

I just don't get how it's possible to resist something that seems so beautiful and stay strong and keep yourself in misery while telling yourself you'll heal in time to come, when everyone else is succumbing to this beautiful Thing.

And I just don't get how the end doesn't seem to hurt for them like it does for me. Oh I remember the crying, the shivering, the lashing out at God, the chain of profanities, crying on the day of my O level paper. I guess it has to do with me being apparently less emotionally stable than 99% of the respondents of that Facebook Jungian profile test thing. Unfortunate me.

For a moment I thought maybe I was overestimating the hurt and that it wasn't really as bad as I had imagined, but it took me all of one day of doubt to realise I probably had been right all along - about myself, anyway.

At least I know I've got someone else who knows what it feels like, hanging in there with me. *hugs my funny friend, you know who you are!*

It's good, the way things are going now (i.e. nowhere).