Today I visited P. in M.
cried a lot
(fortunately that's fine with him)
and eventually fought my way
all the way back
to the first relevant thing
said to me during therapy
(and yes, that means September)
because everything goes back to this
up to my latest "resolve"
to die or at least cripple to this
--because that's behind my "what's the point?!"
as I figured out a few weeks ago--
so
wherever I try to twist it
the end of it is always the same:
I can't
and don't even want to
forgive myself.
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