Today I am forcing myself to write. I'd rather go back  to bed where Ive been for too long. I want my son to come home. I can't think at work, I can't seem to do anything but glare at my computer and farm. At least I can do that. I have emotional outbursts at work. I found out it's not a good thing to call your boss a fucking dick licker to hus face. (he's not, as far as I know) I don't know what has come over me. I now take my ativan before every shift. I cry every day for Jeff. Am I really so selfish that I would choose to keep my son from the glory of heaven and have him with me? This is wrong. I havve too mmuch guilt. I need it to stop.