But who knows what she spoke to the darkness, alone in the bitter watches of the night

So I'll be honest, I did the counting: I've literally cried for 1/3rd of the last 24 hours and I would characterize my mental state as "crisis." But I understand the paths I'm walking intimately, and the distinctively-familiar loneliness of them. I don't know why I thought this year, these weeks would be different. But now I've medicated myself into a flat affect, if only because for once in my life, I actually have some pretty important shit to do. I don't want to go into it with puffy eyes.