The waiting. The wanting. Something inside me snaps. And I hate myself for it. And I hate those around me who contributed to it. And I hate how I've failed, and how others have failed me. I hate that I have to deal with this. And I hate how I can't count on anyone to be completely there when I need them, exactly the way I need them to be. And then I can't even sleep, because of my noisy brain. No matter how tired I am. It's impossible to accomplish anything but lying here in bed. Frustrated and victimized at three in the morning.
