I’m tired. Tired from packing. Tired from loading. Tired of crying. Tired from not sleeping. Tired from not eating. Tired of worry. Tired of stress. Tired of not knowing. I’m just so fucking tired of and from everything.
Today about 95% of everything in the house will be moved out and into storage. I still don’t know for absolute if I’ll have some place to stay for a couple, maybe more, weeks. I honestly feel like saying fuck it, and say good bye, but I’m too fucking afraid.

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