Sometimes it's difficult. To keep going that is. It's so easy to hold comfort in the stand still. The silence becomes soothing and calm. Creating a bubble around yourself can become oddly self assuring. I mean, you can't fuck up if you don't go anywhere or talk to anyone right? Time becomes a blur and the disconnection from the world starts to seem so easy.
It's tough to realize that you've been doing things wrong and working so hard on something that isn't worth it. It's tough to give up on said things because giving up in general is tough enough. Let alone when you've put so much time and effort into something. It's tough to deny people and to bring others bad news. It's tough to know that people will hate you for decisions you make. Even though at the end of the day it affects them in zero of the ways.
When I write it isn't usually for others. I'm quite selfish in my writings even if it seems like I could possibly be trying to help someone. I don't post this shit because I care if you read it. I post it because its not easy to do. It takes a lot of nonexistent balls on my part to post a ton of words that convey a bunch of stupid ramblings of emotions. I'm overall just testing myself. With each post I hope to reveal more that would otherwise be buried deep down inside my mind. I hope to confront that fear of opening up to others; hoping that with each post it will make it easier to do in real life. Hoping that it will result in less anger and less punching of walls. Hoping that the screaming in pillows will decrease in numbers and that the feeling of wanting to shake people until they throw up will just go away.
Maybe one day I can feel content. Maybe one day things can be easy. Maybe I'll be able to find beauty in the world. Maybe I will one day find someone who gets it. Maybe I somehow think that it is possible for me. While I'm not sure that my strung out anxiety would allow me to know what content and relaxation feels like; here's to hoping that maybe one day maybe will exist.