Talking
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It started with me wanting to write an encouraging letter to myself, but it quickly became another journal entry of me lamenting about my life. When is this going to end – this cyclical bullshit of me settling, realising that I am unhappy, seeking a way out, feeling defeated, and settling again.

I had read books. Music. Travel. Opened up, shut down. Gone away, escaped, fucked around, let people in, drove people out. How and where do people find peace, grace, faith, strength? I feel so broken and incompetent. Where do I go to learn how to untangle the knots? It is so noble to call these scars my badges of honour, but the truth is I am changed, I don’t feel like the same person I was, I am still getting used to this new person.

I wonder everyday if I would be okay. And it feels almost like a sin to put these thoughts online. I don’t want to burden people who care for me with my never-ending moping. My indecisiveness tires me and the people around me out. I feel weary. I feel old and heavy. I don’t feel pretty. I feel like the spark is gone. How does one deal with loneliness? The fear of abandonment? Was it my childhood?

I am not sure if I still deserve to be happy, or whether I will be fine in future. I am hopeful at times, and at other times the future just seems so, so bleak. I know it is all “in my head”; I am standing in my own doorway getting in the way of every darn thing.

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Unknown's avatar

Peggy has a penchant for impromptu travel plans, manicures and a good workout sesh.

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