Thoughts on forever
#fyp #poerty #ex #love #mentalhealthawareness
Alright, one last crash out.
Looking back, I probably treated people worse this past year than I ever have before. Not proud of it either.
There were good people too.
Amber was one of them.
She deserved better than the version of me she got.
Truth is, I kept seeing pieces of someone else in her. Same attitude. Same look. Same feeling.
It wasn’t fair to her.
A lot of things weren’t fair last year.
I’ve spent so much time trying to outrun my own head.
Drinking made it easier.
Not better.
Just easier.
There’s a difference.
You wake up on a floor somewhere, spend half the day trying to find your wallet, your keys, your phone, whatever you lost the night before.
Somehow that became normal.
The funny part is I can lose half my belongings and still remember things from two years ago like they happened this morning.
Makes no sense.
Nothing really does anymore.
Most days it’s just me and my dog.
That little idiot has more energy than I ever will.
Had me risking my life pulling him out of a lake even though I still can’t swim.
Looking back, that’s probably one of the few times I didn’t think.
I just moved.
Maybe that’s what love is.
Not thinking.
Just moving.
People ask what I want out of life now.
I honestly don’t know.
The old answers don’t fit anymore.
The new ones never showed up.
Some days I feel stuck.
Like life is happening around me instead of with me.
Wake up.
Go through the motions.
Go back to sleep.
Repeat.
And somewhere in the background there’s still this tiny piece of hope I can’t seem to kill.
Not growing.
Not fading.
Just there.
Like a radio station playing so quietly you almost forget it’s on.
Maybe that’s why I’m still here.
Maybe that’s why I keep waking up.
I don’t know.
All I know is tomorrow keeps showing up whether I ask for it or not.
Reading through this raw and honest reflection reminds me how important it is to acknowledge our own imperfections and the complex journey of healing and self-discovery. The author shares experiences of guilt and regret, especially about how he treated others—like Amber—with a mix of sadness and acceptance. It’s a common experience to look back and wish we’d acted differently toward people who cared for us. One thing that stood out was the struggle with mental health and the role alcohol played as a coping mechanism—offering temporary relief, but never true healing. This is a stark reminder that using substances to 'ease' emotional pain often leads to further complications, like losing track of one's belongings or feeling disconnected from life. The companionship of his dog brings a touching contrast to the loneliness described. Pets often provide unconditional love and a reason to stay present, even when we feel stuck. His impulsive act of pulling the dog from the lake, despite not knowing how to swim, illustrates a moment of pure instinctive care—perhaps a form of love that transcends overthinking. Many people can relate to feeling like life is happening around them rather than with them, stuck in repetitive cycles. Yet, the persistent 'tiny piece of hope' the author describes is powerful. It’s often hope, no matter how faint, that keeps us going and facing each new day. The scribbled advice from the image text—"simply have a day, stay alive, feed yourself, drink lots of water, don't give up on yourself"—echoes this sentiment beautifully. Sometimes, just surviving day by day is a form of quiet courage. If you’re reading this and feeling similarly lost or overwhelmed, remember that healing is not linear. It’s okay to stumble and not have all the answers. Reaching out for support—whether through friends, professionals, or self-care practices—can make a difference. And sometimes, the most important thing is to keep moving forward, as the author did, step by step, with hope quietly playing in the background.
