It's easy, really. To slip. To be so close to the edge, peering over, the wind blowing through your hair, whispering in your ear "just do it." And, you wait. You think about everything over the past year, everything that has accumulated and brought you to this point. Your hands start to shake, your mind races, your heart pounds. You close your eyes, and try to remember the hope you used to have, the peace you used to feel. And then, everything goes dark.
Without even realizing it, yesterday was 4 months. Yet I'm indifferent. I don't seem to care that I've gone that long, because I've taken up new self-destructive habits as a replacement. And if anything, these make me feel worse, like I have even less control than before.
Will there ever be a time when I can look in the mirror and be okay with what I see looking back? The moments where this does happen are fleeting, they leave just as quickly as they came. A moment of calm, of peace, and then hatred once again. Hatred for how I've handled my life, how I've dealt with stress. Hatred for how I let it get this far, how I still have regrets and wish I did things differently. Hatred for wanting it all to end.
This isn't me saying I idealize letting go. If anything, I just need to feel something again, anything. Because ever since the last time I was able to breathe, I've felt numb. And I let this numbness drown me in perpetual waves, not caring if I never come up for air. Yet at the same time, I can feel someone inside screaming, begging. She wants her life back, she wants to feel happiness and excitement. Mostly, she just wants hope. She just wants something to believe in again.
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