Drenched.

Something has to give. This has to be the bottom. I can't take it anymore.

The job. The working around the clock. My ideas getting hosed. The glass ceiling. Old men shooting me down, not on merit but because of power, of a show, because I'm young and female. Spending most of my time cleaning up someone else's mess, instead of using my talent to provide some good. And then? Then it continues. They don't get rid of the idiot, I don't rid myself of the idiot.

My boy. The one who has the power to turn even my worst days around. The one who gave me something to look forward to. The one I put so much into. I drank with him, traveled with him, skiied with him, cleaned up his puke, supported him, dragged my ragged ass all over this country just to see him. And, the very few times that I ask for a little back, that I asked for a visit because I was lonely; that I asked for a day in so I could rest; that I asked for a do-over because I was stressed: he couldn't find it in himself to give it to me.

Somehow he's forgotten all that I am. He's forgotten everything that we are together, everything that we have, how good it can be. And all I can do is hope that he remembers, that it dawns on him how awesome I am, that he can believe in me even when I don't. And I don't know how I can do that so far away.

I guess I can't blame him, so have I. I don't recognize this person either. Who is this girl? I'm not the kind of girl who is desperate for a guy to like her. The kind who doesn't want to go to work in the morning. The kind who sits in the bathroom at work crying. The one who can't focus and has headaches all the time. The one who is always tired, and is now lame. And flakey.

Something has to change. Things have to turn around.