Day 231

2:33AM:

This can’t be it.

I’m sure that I am strong. And I am sure the blackness is stronger.

I have fought this too long to underestimate it. It is making me want to walk in front of traffic with my eyes closed. This is because of my weakness; not it’s strength. I need to limit its power. I need to take the upper hand.

Some stress requires resilience. Other stress requires support. This stress, this stress…

This can’t be it.

This anxious life, this type of survival life, those phrases.  Those phrases are oxymorons, when the first words make the second unliveable.

This can’t be it.

Gimme shelter. I want to live, not die, not unduly suffer. I know this. I still search for answers and for support and for guidance and for kindred and for shelter.

This can’t be it.

I am living to suffer because of the blackness; no, because of the environment the blackness has to feed on. Because it is feeding on me; it is feeding on my desolation, on my fatigue, on my obsessive life, on my high-strung life.  This is not stress management, this is life management.

This can’t be it.

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