Lonely

I don’t have friends. Not real ones. I don’t trust I guess. I’m not capable of being a good friend. I don’t reach out.

I wish I did.

I don’t have anyone but my husband and therapist to really confide in. They both analyze everything I say.

I think this will be just be how it is forever. No matter the progress I’ve made. There is only so much repair that can be made. Some things are irreparably damaged.

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