like Dali's dripping clocks

Okay, so it's noon-thirty on what I believe to be 15 DPO and I'm in the midst of a distainfully cruel mind-fuck - with a negative HPT and still no sign of Aunt Flow. and I'm agitated. very, very agitated. Emotionally, I am not the same person I was 17 months ago when this whole "exciting and hopeful" journey got started. I can now be likened to a small fragile egg, and somebody has shot a buckshot right through the middle of it... and naturally, I shatter. I am so very tired of being shattered.