Loving someone that doesn’t love you back is exhausting. It’s like pouring sand into a bottomless bucket. And paying for a bouquet of roses, but only getting the stems. This is becoming a pattern for me.
I have spent the vast majority of my life being an overachieving perfectionist. Such a negative description, but sadly true. Part of it is genetic, but sometimes we encounter environmental factors that push us over the edge and straight down to Crazy Town, Nebraska. My push?
Mononucleosis. I never thought I would be defeated by a virus, but neither did Neighbor 406 in Zombieland. It’s supposed to be relatively harmless. Sleep for a week and you’ll be fine, right?