This isn’t too good to be true because some days it’s so hard to get out of bed.
I beat myself up, I convince myself I’m insane all while I can feel him and hear him try to console me. Rick is often clueless and I keep it that way. His idea of help is to smother me and I hate being smother. Being left alone is what I rather me. So no I don’t want his help, I usually shut down and take extra Seroquel.
While the correct dosage helps me concentrate enough to hear him and feel him, if I take too much or too little a dose, it screws everything up. I become zombie literally dragging my feet around, my hair a mess, barely awake, talking slow just like a zombie but not hungry for brains. Not even hungry. Just tired.
I believe if it’s too good to be true…then it is.
At first that’s what I thought. Him? My TF? The guy in my dreams this whole time? Well the shoe to drop was he was dead. This was the guy the psychic told me about. My intuition told me this for years but I was in denial. Who the fuck wants a dead tf? I didn’t ask for this! Some days it pisses me the fuck off that I’ve been given this shitty hand in the first place. What’s the point?
The point is to get my feelings out, express myself, heal and show people what unconditional love is. He’s dead, big fucking deal. Love still exists even for the dead especially one like my TF.