this is the first entry i’ve actually had to plan out before typing. i don’t feel very verbose lately. i struggle to find the words to say.
a lot of things are going well. i’m so close to my goals. i’m so close to my future. i tell myself i can’t make it and i respond to myself with, yes, i can. i ask when it will be better and i tell myself soon. i say it won’t be me, and immediately ask, why not? why not me? i say look at how slow you’re going and reply with you don’t blame an acorn for not yet being an oak.
a lot of things are going poorly. there’s been family health emergencies. fights. drugs. the depression i’ve burrowed into over the last month caused issues on top of everything else. i’m pretty sure i killed a few budding friendships. just like i killed the old ones. talked for a couple months and now i can’t get a reply. it’s hard not having friends. it’s good that i have practice.
i wish i was better at reaching out. i'm awful at staying in contact. even with people i know for a fact love me. i can't bring myself to say anything. i can't bring myself to take the conversation any deeper. i don’t like not knowing what to say when someone asks how i am. the answer is “bad.” “lonely.” “moving forward slowly.” but how long has that been the answer? i’m sick of saying it. but it’s what’s there. it’s what i need to talk about. i look forward to being able to have a normal conversation again.
“better than i have been, worse than i wish i was.”
loneliness is easier when you know there’s another side. i think i know there’s another side, finally. i think i believe it. i finally believe that i can get my life on track. now if only i could believe in my own worth, strength, validity, anything. if only i didn’t feel like a worm. maybe someday. don’t blame an acorn for not yet being an oak.
i’ve written entries like this before. i’ve said i was close before. but it’s never been truer. none of this has ever felt so real. the good, or the bad. when i look back on the site i see transient thoughts stored like gospels, crystals encasing precious nothings. maybe i should prune the site, remove some of the less meaningful entries. i don’t know. i don’t know.
hope hurts. it keeps burning me. i wish i could just feel nothing, just go empty until it’s time to feel again. i’m tired of being the scars that my future bears with grace. i want to be the grace.