I often feel helpless and hopeless- lately "often" has come to mean "constantly," for various reasons, both real and imagined. At the moment, the only excuse I have for not finding help or hope is that tears inevitably accompany both. And as long as I hate crying more than I hate myself, I will survive as I have. Even if the scale should tip in favor of self loathing, I expect I would still continue on as I am.
I don't deal with things. I avoid them. This is nothing new, and if people care enough to find themselves losing any respect they might have had for me because of it, they surely did not know me as well as they thought.
I exist. That's all. That's more than enough, for the moment; I'll worry about the rest later.
This too, shall pass. It always does, one way or another.
1 comment:
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