Broken Doll

So. Turns out I was right and that blurring the line between personal friend and work colleague is a fantastically stupid idea.

Sarah sold me out. Sarah who drunkenly claimed to love me on any number of occassions. Sarah whom I used to respect as a colleague and used to consider a friend.

Just because I don’t look sick doesn’t mean that I am not. I mean, jesus. Would you have preferred that I bitch and moan and whine constantly about how bad I feel? Did you want me to curl up on the floor and whimper every time I got the shakes, or my chest hurt, or I couldn’t catch my breath even though I was just sitting down? Did you want me to chuck the wig in a box and come to work looking like a decaying skull with my thin, scraggly hair falling out all over the place? Do you really think that would have been better? Or would I have made you fucking uncomfortable?

Show a little fucking gratitude that you only had to watch this happen to someone else.

Sarah claimed to be my friend, but hasn’t attempted to contact me in any way since July 9 to explain herself or even to tell me to fuck off and die. If she’d called or emailed to apologize and say that he made the decision against her wishes that would be one thing.

Which only serves to emphasize the point that no one gets this. At all. Because they can’t, even if they want to (and even less so if you can’t be arsed to think beyond yourself). No one has any idea what this is like. I could explain til I’m blue in the face — and did, frankly, on the updates I sent out — and Sarah watched it happen and she still sold me out anyway.

There is nothing more despicable than a liar. Deceit and greed are the foundation of every other sin.

I can’t make anyone understand this. I am, ultimately, completely alone.