I am not quite sure when I stopped sleeping a “normal” amount of time. I only know it had been a long time since I had been able to rest for more than 90 minutes every 2nd or 3rd night. I remembered to eat on the days I went to work. When I resigned so I wouldn’t embarrass the school or myself I stopped bothering with food all together unless someone else prompted me. Hunger was a foreign concept which didn’t occur to me. I remember some of the triggers which increased my paranoia. They seemed to snowball into an avalanche rather quickly. I had so many different theories which held together perfectly for me at the time. I miss some of the delusions as reality is a harsh cruel crushing difference from the endless possibilities I saw then. I do believe I am slightly psychic; just lousy at interpreting the signs. I sensed I would not be returning to my apartment. I thought I would go into witness protection & either be able to stay incognito under a new name nearby or be listed as dead & travel with a body guard or solo with complex check in system. I sensed I would lose those I cared for most, just didn’t realize that would include all 3 of my cats. I thought I was finally going to receive the kind of care I was denied as a child. Never did I have an inkling that would mean foster care with strangers. Self Esteem has never been something I had an abundance of and now I find myself deprived of it completely. I couldn’t have possibly dreamed the costs to my soul. My dreams of helping others by becoming an expressive arts therapist; of traveling the world giving interviews & speeches on the best way to revolutionize the systems for dealing with psychiatric health issues & care all died. I have no hope for a future that is not one of misery. I continue to live solely to prevent worse pain for those who still care for the idea of my existence. I suffer because I know not what else exists. Every time I have fought my hardest for what I believed in everything I built has been ripped to shreds & I do not believe in possibilities any longer. I crave & often seek comfort but only in little things now as asking for what I need results in cruel mocking from fate instead. Time passes still but has no meaning beyond the calendar & clock. Ticking its way through a line that seems determined to cross out any positive meaning my life might have held. Barriers to becoming someone who can help children or adults who have shared in suffering of the same nature as my childhood inflicted on me leap to heights beyond my ability to climb despite the solemn vow I pledged to myself at age 8. I keep seeking to take baby steps towards a goal I no longer believe attainable & even those tiny goals are withheld from my grasping reach. Is there a point? Why do I keep wanting there to be one?