Repetition, just like the impulses my brain seems amenable, if not adamant to inflict on my chest. Every single last detail of what allegedly happened taking life in the back of my eyes, and I am powerless to stop this phenomenon. I've been doing a better job distancing my ribcage from the immediate damage on impact. The sharp pain remains identical, yet I've managed to shelter the relevant parts so as to only subject them to the kickback.
So it hurts still, but at least there's some sort of numbing sensation that helps coping.
I still don't really know what now. I had pretty much planned everything around you, around us. And you did not exist in the end. So that means that us has always been me, and just me. Which is contradictory though, because if I had been by myself all along, I would have made a great many different decisions along the way. So now what? I guess it opens up my options. I am free-er, in a sense- which is the perk of being empty, because there is not much you could do to lose something that you don't have. Regular case of the loser's trophy.
But I don't really know, because I still miss you - or whatever I lived with for 8 months to the day - like hell.
It's not hard looking at the bigger picture. As a matter of fact, I've been doing that for months now, because I am not an utter imbecile. I did not fathom the killing blow however.
So I'm still looking at the same thing, except sans perceived lifeline anymore.
I'm still young, or so I've heard, and yet I'm at the crossroads between adolescence and adulthood. I really don't feel like making a choice. I am comfortably numb and rejoice at the idea that time is taking over my duty and I can rest for a while. I guess it's being overly optimistic.
How unlike me.
But some rest might be well-deserved still.
_______________________________________________________________________________
When you are drowning, or being drowned, there is very little you can do. Struggling will only accelerate your demise. Staying still will be the easiest path, but you won't be given a chance to pick the outcome in this scenario. Swimming sounds clever, but that equates to wasting much energy. and the air is rarefied.
The meds are useful to ease the anxiety, but ultimately, they're mere illusions draining the life away from you.
It's unlikely that a lifeguard will be here, let alone on time, when you're at large. No miracles in real life.
But there is a way.
Through the little things.
Mike who takes me to the Lucky Moose for too much poutine.
Auré who pours me a coffee.
MST who finally comes to see me despite her being sick.
Trying calligraphy in Chinese class.
Finding solace in the fact that the new season of Rick and Morty might be there by year's end.
Enjoying replaying a game.
Laughs.
A lot of them.
An awful lot of them.
There is no remedy. You don't heal, you adapt, you accept. I've lost, I have to acknowledge it. There is no way around it. You can't get out of the water unscathed. There is no cure for a wound this large. It changes you, for good, for better, for worse. Whatever.
This is life's natural course.
But the little things are what compels you to still get up in the morning, what gradually gets you to believe that the sun does still show up . What makes you smile, for lack of laughing.
Because the little things, they are genuine. They are not fake. And they do help a little, even if you don't always see it.
Because if they can't help keep you afloat,
They at least keep you breathing.
Because if they do no save you,
They keep you alive.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wipdWDZpZTY&list=LLuDOPgKOCIHjDvocYlryqkA&index=22
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