Tears dry on their own.

Still the number of women with nervous breakdown is rising. Of victims also.
Independently of what I think and feel, with surprise I state that my resistance and immunity to drama has shrunk lately to the size of a thimble.

In the past I was a pot without a bottom, able to accept all the problems, quandaries and listening for hours to friends get things off their chest, and also utter strangers. I was a sponge that patiently absorbed all that pain, inter-human grunge and personal despairs. I alone was a walking drama, frolicking hysterically and existential fucking traumas into atoms, injuries and fears.

It does not pass. You do not forget. You just need to learn with it. Calmly.
There are no other means. No one will save us. No one will fix us.

I really cannot listen to consecutive testimonies of break downs. I cannot. With first words I shrink inside and my head explodes.I am in no condition to help anyone, and listening hurts. Though helplessness hurts more.

And anger in me grows, that humans spin distractedly around their own axis, instead of beginning to live. And appreciated what they have. Luxury of breathing.

Ugh. I’ve changed.

In the past boldly I thought I can understand people. Today- not so much.
Today I’m just tired. I operate with simples phrases- “yes” and “no”.

Yes, yes you can count on me.

No, I will not fall down with you.