Bugs get dead. I loved my husband. I really did. Sometimes I allow myself to wonder, to hope that maybe there is something of him left. The real him.
Time is a fluid concept here.
Sometimes I have to swallow the drugs and so time blurs, becomes hazy and days slip by. Days, weeks, months and years that there is no point in counting because they have no meaning here. I'll never get out. My whole life has come to this, average student at school who couldn't be bothered making an effort and who drifted at college until I met him. I loved him and married him and lost him.