“I was in love. He died. I found out he left me a message that he loved me, but I didn’t get it. Now I’m sick to death of everything. This apartment, this laundry, the fact that things get dirty, the law. Just… standing here. Sometimes, I swear, I just want to go into my bedroom, pull the covers over my head, and never do anything ever again. I’m drinking like I never have before. And all I want to do is have another one. And then everything just gets swallowed up by more disgust. I’m not built to be an unhappy person. I like laughing. I laugh like a banshee at videos on YouTube and then I just sit here alone in this stupid little apartment wondering what the hell happened to my life. Was it all about having two kids who I don’t even know if I like anymore? And just shoving them off to be someone important? Seriously, was that the point? I just… I hurt. And I… I… I want it over. I just want it to end. I just- I was loved, and now it’s over, over! So why am I doing this?”