It’s that time again. The time when I’ve, once again, dug a hole. It’s not as dim as it could be but I am here again. Why do I insist on this? Maybe it’s by chance or by choice. My thoughts have become more my friends…but I just don’t want to be here. It has always and will always take time to get out. What’s tricky is how much easier it is to keep digging than it is to start climbing. The difference in its efforts is massively distant. And yet, I do know how important it is to make the right choice and climb. The scissors that are in my hand and made for cutting will have to serve no dysfunctional purpose.

As expected, when down here, things haven’t turned out very well. I lost all the pictures I had. I lost the images that I thought I had so tightly held on to. But I do have the memories and can always take more pictures. I do not want to hold on to what was lost. As human as it might be, it truly is pointless. It’s so pointless, that wallowing almost shouldn’t even be allowed. But it is and we do. I cry for the pictures I lost and will never see again.

If only I would have tried harder or taken better care of them. If only. But the scissors I hold in my hand are present. Will I use them to hurt or to build? I love flaws. I love how imperfect life can be. Even when it all seems amazing, I try to look for the imperfections. Why? Because I love things that are real and perfection seems utterly and unbearably fake. So I will try to not hurt. I will not make things bleed. I will try to not expect. I will try my best, even if it kills me.

I will try to not give up even when the signs can be quite dark. I will start all over again if it’s what I’m supposed to do. So much sand has slipped through my fingers once more and that’s fine. I will get a hold of the situation again and it might all be lost again as well. That’s life. But I do know what I want to be close to and far from. People can be lovely but they can be dangerous. I am stopping the full on trust. I am trying to become as much of my own source of happiness as I can.

I still do not know how it will unfold but I hope it’s worth writing about and worth inspiring. Even now, I know how unexpected this all is and yet, I want to expect it. I want to long for nothing but what is…as if I had planned it. I want expectations to drive me and not be the end of me. I want to compare myself to no one and nothing. I want youth to be a part of my personality and have it not be related to age. We’ll see how strong my will is but I am going to bet on myself a whole deal because if I don’t, who will?


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