My Prozac level is the consistency of an egg white glaze this morning and I’m trying really hard not to have it crack and fall off before even the first bite of breakfast is had.
Sometimes keeping it all together in a neat little package appropriate for public consumption is hard.
Chronic panic disorder is hard… (I try really hard to forget that, play act like it’s nothing more than an eccentric walk in the park most days. So when reality nips me in the butt, it stings like a real bitch.)
I’m in a foul, fragile mood. I’d pretend that I wasn’t, but I promised you guys full disclosure when I started this daily blog nearly 15 months ago.
Full disclosure is hard and very, very ugly at times.
Just please, don’t judge me on this post alone.
Until tomorrow (a much better day, I pray)…