I’m having more dreams, but they’re just nonsense dreams in liminal spaces. I keep begging and praying for dreams of Jason so I can be happy just for a day, but they won’t come to me. This life won’t even allow me safety or happiness in my dreams. It seems the only point of being alive is to be miserable. We’e trapped in hell, and I’m afraid that even if I kill myself, I’ll just wake up in my bed again to endure more torture. I tried so hard to be useful. I worked my whole life to get myself in a position where I could become stronger. Everything crumbled, and my body did too. It’s too late. I’ll never be able to become the strong person I wanted to be.
