I said I didn’t want you anymore, that I didn’t like you. I feel regret for not feeling the excitement. The isolation is less desirable and sometimes I think that others are in disbelief. This is something that we just deal with, just part of the experience. I feel worthless and helpless and hostage to my own body. Is this why it is hard to be happy? I’m a victim to my own symptoms? I know that when I awake it will start all over again. I’m a prisoner to what’s growing and feeding the life we created. I am strong, but not this strong. My throat is burnt, my muscles are sore. Every heave makes the pain more unbearable and no matter how much I beg it to stop, it wont. I am afraid. I feel broken. My mind is broken.