I've probably said this before. That there's a clear delineation in my life -- before I met Daniel and he ruined my life, and then after it was ruined. It was the first time I really felt that way.

Then a second one -- before heart failure and after.

Now it's before covid and after.

I go back and read entries before Daniel. Before I moved to Portland. I was so miserable, for years. Josh didn't make me happy, my family didn't make me happy. I lived to move back here, to finally start living. To smell the forest and take control over my life and finances.

So I moved. And within 3 months I was dating an abusive dickwad.

Then I got rid of him. And my heart stopped.

Survived that. Then I was quarantined.

Seems to be going ok, health-wise. I get all my groceries delivered and only leave to take the trash out. Then a man was shot in the head with a rubber bullet in downtown Portland and the feds are beating medics. I don't feel safe in my home.

Honestly? I see no way out of this. I'll survive it and then another awful thing will happen. I'll probably get cancer because my family really should not have procreated.

I don't see an end in sight. The vaccine, maybe. But that's a while out. And I vaguely feel like my mental health has taken a permanent hit from all this and I'll never trust being around another human being.

Maybe I'm being dramatic, but I'm just so sad and tired and hopeless right now.

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