You return home, tears in your eyes from crying in your car for the whole drive home.
You don’t know how much more of living like this you can take. Try as you might, nothing seems to get better. It’s as if you’re just floating through life at this point, becoming more and more sad as time goes on.
You have sleeping pills in the bathroom. You got them because you’ve always had trouble sleeping, and they’re the only thing that will ensure you actually get any shut eye. Maybe you should use them.