Everything but fine.

Things are not looking good.

A week ago, I was awash with hope.  My defenses were down, my heart was softened.

I knew it was a risk, letting hope in it, but I made the concious decision that I could handle whatever consequences came from it.

I was strong.

And now, I’m weak.

Now, things are not hopeful.  Things are not clear.  Things are spiraling down so quickly I can barely keep up.  Now, my head is reeling with the logistics that would have to accompany The End.  It’s all so much.  Too much.  More, possibly, than I can handle.

For weeks I have been saying “I’m OK”.  “I’m fine, really.”

But now, I am not fine.

I’m terrified.

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