To Live and To Die

It's been an awful while since I went on here. And it'll probably be the same for who knows how long. No, it's not the rewards I'm after. Life has just been too much to handle. My initial purpose for creating this account has met its horrible demise too. (I know they're out there but things are not the same anymore.)

A year has nearly passed and I am still grieving for my losses. And try as I might, the yearning still comes back—I'm not really hung up on anything but some regrets haunt me (I could've done better) and there's this void that is so hard to fill. Losing and leaving people has made me lose whatever mind I still have left. I've started to become wary of people's intentions (some only stay for the drama) and I have withdrawn to the noises inside me. All I am now is the shell I used to dread.

Every night, I hype myself up—tomorrow's going to be the day I will do better for myself. Every day, I wake up wondering when will I cease to be—I am too tired to get going. I have a bad case of self-victimization when I should be geared up for the next big thing and my handling can't even counter it. I just want to rot but I'm well aware that I cannot.

All the adventures I have gone to have been nothing but temporary highs. Why do the temporary lows have to be so prolonged? It's all winter. No spring, summer, or fall.

I have been watching myself die so often. And of course, I struggle to live again. Whoever's handling my switch between living and dying must be having the time of their lives. Saturn, spare me some mercy.

Despite this exhausting cycle, I still try to pick up pieces of myself that I have lost along the way. I have caught on to odd things to entertain myself but everything and everyone, for the most part, is boring. Who would've thought so many people would hop on dating/friend-seeking apps but won't even bother to share an inkling about them? Luckily, I have come across one to two people who match my crazy. (Look at me building friendships, wow.) And this time, I'm trying my best not to warp into whoever's ideal version is.

I look forward to doing little things because that's the least I can do for now. Turning the computer on, responding to lengthy messages, shuffling my deck, doing the dishes... As long as I keep myself breathing, anything works, I suppose. To crawl out of this hole I dug myself is no joke and I forget to credit myself for doing that.

Sigh. To live and to die for another day. Or two. Or more.

I toast to everyone who is trying to live. And another to those who grieve.