I don’t know if I’m on edge because my arm hurts, or if it’s something more …

I can’t take any sort of criticism without taking it as a personal attack.

I can’t make any joke without hurting someone unintentionally.

Two days ago I cried because I couldn’t shake a feeling of complete and total inadequacy. I felt like I’m not good enough for my job, not good enough for Nate, not good enough for my family, not good enough for anything.

This afternoon I watched “Bringing Home Baby” on the Discovery Channel, and the woman was at home with a newborn and a three year old and called for the kids’ godmother to come over so she could take a shower. I cried because I realized that I could never be Kaity’s potential kids’ godmother, because I’m not Catholic. I mean, really. What the fuck does that even mean?

I’m tired of being two seconds away from going batshit insane. I’m not sure that I’m suitable for public consumption at this point.

I’m afraid that if anyone said anything to me, I might just lose it and do something terrible. I’m not violent. Never really have been. But I’ve always been socially awkward, and I can just see myself doing something absolutely retarded and losing everything I’ve made in the last four years.

I don’t even know what that means. I just feel like I’m carrying seven loads of laundry in my arms, and I keep dropping socks, and like if someone comes over to ask if I need a hand, I might scream in their face.