Deteriorate

I think it’s very telling that my last therapy session my therapist said to me “Well shit, what can you do?” I think my outlook on life has changed drastically over the years, jealousy, anger, hope, ambition, happiness, kind of all just out the window. You know bad things are coming and when they do come to you, you kind of welcome it, kind of get used to it. There’s a certain kind of sadness that comes with seeing the one who brought you into this world fall apart. Having to tie their shoes, take them to the bathroom, see them have a puzzled expression on their face as if you’re some stranger. Knowing that things will only get worse for the both of you and that if by some miracle you could make something of yourself for them to be proud of, they probably wouldn’t even remember it.

Here I am, on the last year of my 20’s, genuinely shocked that I am here, in the last year of my 20’s. It’s a weird way to live, hopeless, you kind of just survive, don’t do much or anything for yourself, what you do have you give to help others and when you’re left with nothing it’s normal because you deserve it.

These have become increasingly tough to write, before they were about how things are hard but there’s always tomorrow but now I am actually dreading tomorrow. I have been believing that things could get better, I mean why not? Everyone has been saying it for years but as your walls crumble down around you and you see everyone climbing higher, you stop thinking about your dreams and get accustomed to the rubble. You give up. How could I ever see myself where everybody else is? How does one climb up when they are perpetually falling down?

Thoughts and prayers and hope? They’re nice, but that’s all they are. It’s hard to be faithful for something when you are watching it get worse, it’s hard to believe a wound will heal when it is reopening everyday. Things are very tough and I’m falling apart, reaching out is useless when even you don’t know what you’d say to yourself. The days get longer, the thoughts get darker, the silence grows in the sleepless nights and so does the pain. I’d like to say you get used to it, but you never get used to how much it hurts. Over 50+ people to talk to, none would understand. It’s easier for me to picture my funeral than to see me living some happy life. It’s been something else lately. Take care everybody, thanks for reading.

-Nerd Out.