there are moments when she just feels like stopping and screaming and saying fuck it and wouldn’t life just be easier if she could. she knows she can’t. people depend on her to not sleep, juggle twelve projects, find a way from no way, be perpetually functional, sarcastic and supportive. it doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to and that reaching out for help won’t make it better. mostly cause she doesn’t know what she needs besides the ability to stop for a moment. to do nothing substantial or significant or serious. instead she sighs deeply, crises in the shower as needed, takes random moments for self-care and dream crazy dreams when her mind slows down enough to do so. she thought about leaning on him but realizes no him has ever really provided what she needed in that moment. no one has in nearly seventeen years. it’s not their fault, they love her and want to make her smile but there’s no time for that, she just needs to be. so when she feels like breaking she must find the superglue and do a quick patch job. there’s not room or space for more than a crack and repair.