………………
.
.
How desperately I claw through the world
Flailing.
Grasping.
I’m searching for something to fill in the seams. The cracks.
Can I prove to myself (to the world)? That I am more than I am?
I’ve fallen into cycles of growth and regression, of wallowing and standing.
Honestly, it’s boring.
How completely mundane to be so flawed and bitter. How tiring it is to exist in a world that is fighting you (or at this point, am I just fighting it?)
Maladapted
Wrong
Broken
Sad
Bitter
SINKING INTO MY OWN PAIN AND INADEQUACY ISN’T HELPING. THE ROAD TO HEALING ISN’T THROUGH MASTUBATORY PAIN.
There is real grief I need to process, there is real shame I need to forgo. SO WILL I GET OFF MY SORRY ASS AND STOP PRESSING THE TRAGIC HERO BUTTON?
Why do I keep reaching for pity, for validation in my own assessment that I am something broken and depressing? What am I hoping to achieve or obtain? For someone to hold me and say I don’t have to try anymore? For someone to tell me that the world has been so so cruel and that they will protect me and give and give and give to make up for all that was taken?
Would that actually make it right? What was taken can never be given back. What was lost cannot be returned. What was broken cannot be fixed.
The best I can hope for, is healing. Healing in this instance, is not without scars, or evidence of past pain. Healing for me means taking the steps to ensure that how I step into my future is how I would like it to be. Accounting for realism, accounting for where I am, accounting for error, and flaw.
And honestly what a life it could be.
Imagine a world where I am not just flailing. But where I have seized control. Where autonomy, agency, and intention are things I wield.
Imagine a world where I could love myself without expectation
Where I didn’t feel it was conditional
All of that but also this shit is fucking hard
