As we continue living, life continues to present us with new sets of challenges, one seemingly more impossible and increasingly more difficult than the last. And as much as I appreciate the gift of life, the wonderful blessing of living, etc., sometimes I can’t help but wonder when enough is going to be enough.
That’s right. I am in a certain mood and this mood is supremely bitchy.
Having undergone years of considerable drama – not all of them my own choosing or doing – and despite developing a certain addiction to it all, I’ve reached the point where the thrill of not knowing what’s around the next corner has become too much of a strain on my overall sanity. If feels like I’ve spent a long time running around, trying to find whatever it is I may be looking for, and right now I just want to stand still and for once, be rid of this numbing anxiety.
Even writing this down is a bit too much. Writing this down means I have to acknowledge that there’s something wrong. Transcribing what I feel and then reading it over pretty much makes denial impossible. I’m fucked up and that’s the truth. Forgive my language, but hey, why sugarcoat it? Let’s try that again, shall we? Slowly this time:
I. Am. Fucked up.
Of course, as some would say that admitting to a problem is merely the beginning of a solution, this is not enough. Now I have to find what I need to do to improve this condition. Unless I so desire to be fucked up. Honestly though, inspite of the obvious sympathy and attention and such that one could possibly reap from such a situation, I don’t think it’s worth the long nights of tears, the unbearably tangible heartbreak, or the lengthy contemplations of suicide.
So what to do, what to do? How do I sort this mess up? Must I act in a progressive and proactive manner or would it be enough to just recite the magic mantra and leave it all to faith and fate? Oh damn.
Right now, enough feels just a bit too much.