So filled with self-loathing that I don't know how I go on. Alone in a quiet house, face buried in my hands, sobbing senselessly with great, hitching breaths. Sobbing not about one thing but about everything, feeling so abandoned, useless, loveless, forgotten. Overtaken by a bitter, cruel kind of irony, the kind of irony which finds humor even in the darkest, most horrible of acts. Self-pity, self-loathing, pathetic. Lost on a path obscured. 

I cannot take comfort in anything anymore. Not in my relationship, my family, the divine, and certainly not myself. And here it is again - to run away, disappear, lose myself in the deserted plains and mountains and valleys of places unseen. All my life I have just wanted to run away, even as a child when I threatened to bundle all my things in a blanket and sleep in the bushes outside, as if that would solve everything. I still think it would solve everything.

God, how I want to start over. Lord, how I wish You existed. 

The day is cloudy, misty, joyless. Wanting to disappear like the raindrops into the ground.