Fuck it.

Last night at 5, walking up the steps, I felt dizzy. Then, dropped the computer onto the brick at the top step! "That's" never happened before! And - it fell *out of* the bag, which means I hadn't zipped the bag up the side - "that's" never happened before either.
Came in, still dizzy. Thought maybe food would help (like low blood sugar - plus it was ok time to eat dinner anyway, plus had had just soup for lunch, 5 hours before). Had pb on wh wh and orange juice.
Felt same.
Literally fell into den table.

Sat for over an hour. Still same. Even moving my head made me dizzy. Laid down - not as bad - but every time tried to get up...

Fell asleep in front of tv between 8 and 9 and woke up for like 5 minutes. Fell asleep again between 9 and 10 and woke up for like 10 - 15 minutes. Went to bed (still feeling same).

The thing is, I really didn't want to have a stroke. And be disabled. Or even a heart attack or something and be in the hospital without J loving me and caring.

But to die - oh, that would have been fine. Good even.

And that's the thing.

I miss J (when he loved me).
I miss Phoebe.
Work wipes me (and all of us) out.
And what for? To keep supporting this life I don't even want?

Fuck it.

I wish I'd not told my 4 friends about my blog. I hope they never read it. I want someone to read it, like the person who did/is, so I'm not all alone out in cyberspace. I want lots of someones to read it. But not irl friends. Too private. Too full. I hope they never open it.

I'm a shit.
I think of _____. She has a little job, and is not very pretty. And I felt better than. I'm so embarrassed by that.
And after all that, it turns out she has a loving marriage, many kids and they're great, and tons of money.
Hm. Who's the fool? She's built a great life and is living it. I'm here in misery. The end.