Yes, I'm still alive.
Yes, I am well. Mostly.
This place is getting mouldy.
Lots of time, I've wondered if I should just stop writing.
I'm not sure if I'm still writing for myself or not.
Its not that nothing have been happening, most times, I just feel too tired to pen things down and mostly I'm sick of writing about crap that upsets me.
Perhaps all along, I've been writing for others and now when I try to write for myself, I seem to not know how too.
Maybe I've been writing for others all along and now I feel a sense of strange detachment.
Despite me probably not making sense and appearing quite insane, trust me, I'm quite lucid. It's just at times like this, at 6am in the morning, words fail me.
I wonder if I should just surrender after fighting things for so long. I just cant seem to fucking win. Trust me, I've tried. Hard. With gumption, discipline and courage.
I wonder, if its worth its while, this struggle, this shadow. If I could just give myself a break and stop carrying this brave shell for all and sundry.
While I was packing up, getting ready to head home. I found this envelop buried under a ton of books. It felt like a blow. Inside the envelope, were photographs. I didn't open the envelop, I knew better not too. I held it in my hands for a full 10 seconds. Decided. I chucked it in the bin.
They were just lying there, in a box, for more than 2 years. I thought shoving them under a ton of books were good enough. Then 3 weeks ago, I thought chucking them in the bin was good enough.
Today, I'm not sure if thats the case.
Maybe no one will believe me, maybe nobody cares.
But at least I can tell myself that I've put my utmost best into this effort.
Still, despite everything, I suppose there is nothing else to be done other than to keep on trying.
Like Jess says when it comes to fucked up shite. Suck it up, Deal with it.
Suck it up, deal with it.
I don't know how I will do this. Sucking it up and dealing with it. But I will.
God damn, I fucking will.