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Today is one of those days where I feel like I "can't take it anymore."

I think I actually said those words to my DH last night. When he asked what is "it", I replied, "My life."

I don't think I'm courageous enough to work toward the life I think I want. And since my life is half over anyway...maybe it doesn't matter so much.

My dad died when he was only two years older than I am. Sometimes I think that 50 years is quite enough, thank you very much. That I could go gentle into that good night. Sure, there are a lot of things I haven't done...but I don't really have a bucket list, and I feel that I won't have enough money/energy/whatever to do them anyway. They're so far from the reality of my life that they might as well be things that happen to a character in a novel.

Is this what they call hopelessness and despair?

Does anyone read these posts, by the way?

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