Managed to get a few hours' sleep I think. Kept waking up though. My ashke is in hospital. I'm not there yet. I am terrified of hospitals. His and my plans for the next [amount of time] are fucked. It's my birthday on Thursday. We were going dancing on Friday. He won't be able to ride his bike which is, or at least was, the only thing keeping him from the suicidal as far as I could tell. It's my fucking birthday week again, it always is. I'm exhausted. I had plans for today, I was looking forward to them. Now I guess I'll be with my angel but I don't even know how I can face him right now. Telling him how I feel is hardly going to help the situation. My mum's probably stopping by the house today and I haven't got the energy to clear the house up. I sent a really difficult e-mail last night and I've no idea whether I should have or not. So distressed and angry and drained and frightened and worried and last night I needed so much to be with someone and it was too late to get anywhere. Oh god, last night was horrible. Today's horrible, too, but at least today is horrible with working London Underground. (Having said that the whole thing will break down, won't it?) Oh yeah, and I look like I went a few rounds with Wolverine, as well.
Yeah, yeah. It's all about me. Heh. Hardly. But he is being looked after by people who want to make him better *and* he has someone who loves him there. So that at least I can set my mind at rest about a little. Ah heck. My journal. Why am I apologising for what I write? Probably because I said I'd try to do rational this morning and I'm not really getting very far.
Really really need help. Really. ~sigh~ Mainly need to be cuddled and stroked, I think. But need help.