deep, dark, dismal

I am empty inside.







I want to destroy something.  I want to hurt it.  Bad.  I want to SCREAM until I can't scream anymore.  I want to punch something until I see blood.

But I...don't have...the...strength....

I don't want to type this blog.  I don't want to share my real emotions.  I am embarrassed and ashamed that I feel like this.

I don't want to talk to anyone.  Some people at work asked me, "how are you doing?"  Why??  Why do they waste their breath?!  How do you THINK I'm doing?  I'm not doing well.  At all.  Is that a surprise?  "But you're still smiling."  So, I put on a good show...like they say, "fake it until you make it", right?  I've got to get through the day somehow.

I don't feel like eating.  I don't feel like going to work.  I don't want to leave the house.  I don't want to come home.  I feel a lot like Job did (Job 3:11, 20-26 - Holman Christian Standard Bible):
¹¹ Why was I not stillborn;
    [why] didn't I die as I came from the womb?.....
  
²⁰ Why is light given to one burdened with grief,
    and life to those whose existence is bitter,
    ²¹ who wait for death, but it does not come,
    and search for it more than for hidden treasure,
    ²² who are filled with much joy
    and are glad when they reach the grave?
    ²³ [Why is life given] to a man whose path is hidden,
    whom God has hedged in?
    ²⁴ I sigh when food is [put] before me, ^[a]
    and my groans pour out like water.
    ²⁵ For the thing I feared has overtaken me,
    and what I dreaded has happened to me.
    ²⁶ I cannot relax or be still;
    I have no rest, for trouble comes."
 
Oh God! I need you now!!!

 Please don't hate me for saying these things.  Or feeling this way.  My heart is ripped into shreds.  And I need a miracle.  Scratch that.  I need three miracles.  One to heal sweet Caroline Grace's brain and skull.  One to heal Emily's bleeding heart.  And one to heal my wretched soul.

"A wretched soul, bruised with adversity,
We bid be quiet when we hear it cry;
But were we burdened with like weight of pain,
As much or more would we ourselves complain..."
                         ~William Shakespeare, The Comedy of Errors, Act II, Scene 1