Cold carpet, warm embrace. Pillow pressed harshly against my face. Paranoid the same spike on awareness. Only makes me hate this place. Desire to trust, desire to love. Therapy not supplying preparedness. Lots of ideation, lack of a desire to eat, distancing myself in case I can’t get a hug. Brooding over nothing, punishing myself, still struggling to be happy after all this help. I feel like a scream with no echo, probably the attention I seek. Monetary worries, world looks pretty bleak. Lots of hope. Lots of dreams hope I can be satisfied with something you don’t eat.