Weak

So, there I was, looking forward to a nice Friday night at home again, as usual. I really want pizza but I'm holding my own quite nicely, thankyouveddymuch.

And there it was.

On FaceBook.

Two tons of salt rubbed into an old wound that has never healed (or been allowed to heal). No one did it purposely; it was something innocent and nothing to every other living being on the planet, but to me...it was a reminder:

HEY! REMEMBER THAT THING THAT YOU CAN'T GET OVER THAT YOU TRY REALLY HARD NOT TO THINK ABOUT EVERY FRICKIN DAY OF YOUR LIFE THAT HAPPENED 25 YEARS AGO THAT YOU CANNOT FOR THE LIFE OF YOU LET GO?

HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN?

WEEELLLL...HEEEEEEEERE'S JOHNNY!!

And I logged on and went straight for the pizza.

I cried while ordered it.

I wept while I ate it.

I didn't enjoy it.

I hate my life.

I hate myself.

I am going to bed before I do any further damage.