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*ripppppp*

  • it’s not ok to say you’re not ok. people don’t want to know why you’re not ok.
  • when your friends say they understand you, they actually don’t. really.
  • and so, never seek to be understood.
  • don’t open your heart to anyone. it’s irretrievable and regret is inevitable.
  • there is never solely a single panacea.
  • keep your words to yourself if your words don’t lift the other person up.
  • love and care too much at your own peril. you’ll be fucking damned.
  • don’t look for love. love will find you.

since my discharge i’ve been very troubled, very pensive. there’s too much going on, and i don’t know why. in my head is solely self-reproach. there’s no room to be kind or gentle, however much i try. i close my eyes and i hear disparaging words, berating myself for all that i’ve done wrong. i sit in the present, helpless in changing the past, and looking to the future feeling extremely hopeless. i don’t know what to do. every single moment i’m awake i’m ruminating, and the only reprieve is when i’m asleep, or when i…

it weighs heavily on my heart that my final school year starts in 2 weeks. i hate to return to classes and a 10,000 word dissertation in such a state. there is no room to fall, no room to say “i need some time/space”.

and the worst part is that it is likely nothing can be done to alleviate all of these.

can i just walk away from life and disappear into nothingness?

 

 

after the fall

so as i chased after darkness, i fell. serves me right. it was painful, not for the act itself, but the repercussions. when did it ever not hurt? questions rained down on me throughout the 5 days i was in the system. it sowed doubts in my heart and rendered me discombobulated. and it did not help that i could not find the light anymore. i walked out of there as soon as i could. i wanted to find the light, and i couldn’t find it while locked up in there. i know it is out there somewhere. but out in the splendid darkness, if light is not to be found, that is most dangerous for me.


i guess recovery constantly tests a person’s spirit. it’ll always ask “do you want this badly enough?”, as if to keep you on your toes. and if you let slip that you don’t, that’s when you crack and fall. and as long as you choose the light over darkness, recovery will demand that you damn well put in whatever effort it takes to get through each day. choose it, or lose it. mmm. that’s harsh.

 

 

it feels like i’m held underwater, my hands flailing in the air as a hand grasps the top of my head and holds me under. every time the hand releases and i manage to gasp for air, i promise to be good. in that fraction of a second i promise that i will be better. the oxygen i manage to take in feels like reprieve, like i am given a chance again. but very soon after i am dunked again, like a punishment. wasn’t good enough. didn’t try hard enough. water enters my lungs, and i’m drowning once again. the cycle has never ended. maybe the intervals between are longer at times. but i still drown each time i’m “weak”, each time i’m “not good enough”.

one day, soon enough, i’ll truly drown. there is only so much a body can take. and there’s not much left to take.