I am done in and undone. I am tired. pace, pace, back and forth. brain lungs battered and weeping from abuse. brain screams white noise, fuzzy patterns partially formed, dissipating when touched. no sleep, no respite. same old story. same old tune.
blah, blah, blah.
blah, blah, blah.
and you are right, love is not love if it is not unconditional. I hate that part.