My ex wrote a journal and gave it to me. It's eerie to see how many of the same things we were thinking, feeling, and wanting at the same time.
Reading it makes me feel sick. Like I tore out a part of me that I still need to live, but that I'm afraid if I put it back in, my body would reject it.
I have to walk away. I have to go work out. My mind is slipping. I can feel myself slipping. I don't know how long I can continue to live this way. I have to make a change.
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