If it weren’t so heart wrenching, it would almost be amusing how many times one can be convinced that they’re “over it, this time”, when in actual fact the mind is incapable of erasing memories and feelings. They sit, stewing, in some sort of hibernation mode, waiting for you to slip up. Waiting for your moment of weakness or morbid curiosity. Waiting, silent but deadly, ready to gut you like a fish.
Feel a bit stupid if I’m honest.
Or at least I might as well be.
Cat help but feel fucking useless, realistically know it’s mostly down to be exhausted, but sooner or later I’m gonna have to admit defeat. Tell myself I can do this, because I need to, because it’s my duty as a member of this family. But in recent years I’ve lost the ability to cope. It’s funny how much I’ve told myself that nothing had really changed, except my newfound propensity towards seizures. But 30 months down the line (fuck, it’s been ages!) I can hardly ignore my ever decreasing cognitive abilities, and I’m not really sure what I’ve got left after I lose them. Aware I’m being overdramatic and I probably just need a good rest, but I don’t know how much more of myself I can take. I can blame any aspect of my being, try and put a clinical label on why I’m so consistently unstable, but realistically I just need to get a fucking grip. (Not sure where that strength is meant to come from mind)
I’m my own worst enemy.
Doubt any of that made any sense, doubt anyone gets this far anyway. Seem to have run out of places to just let my thoughts slip out, but needed to get things off my chest if I plan on getting any sleep tonight.