Been watching Wire in the Blood, a great British police series, love Tony Hill. Been fiddling around with Instagram. Been thinking for a little over two hours about what to write. Had an idea and tried to work on it in my head, but nah… not good enough. Sometimes I have a feeling this is turning into an online diary instead of a blog. I keep repeating that I’m writing to heal myself, I’m blogging to heal myself, but I don’t know. It feels like I’m slipping. All the time I talk about I need to improve, I need to work on getting better, I need to edit… I need to plan. Well, I found a really good excuse for not planning a while ago. Silencing the mind so the soul could tell me what I need to know, need to do, need to stop doing. I need to go with the flow and can’t be hindered by plans. True or not, I still feel like I’m losing the grip of it all. If I ever had any.
A lot of the time I don’t even want to write at all. But I still do and when I post it, for the past week or so, every time after publishing a new post I think that no one cares anyway. It’s become a negative mantra. I do write other things though. I’ve begun a new project on Wattpad, a writing platform where you can read others work as well as write your own, and publish if you want to. It’s free and great if you enjoy writing. I write poems. Well, some kind of poems, not following any rules, but that can still be poetry, right? I write what I can’t say. The things that are on my mind, but I can’t say them. I’m sure I’d be hurting people if I told them so I write poems instead. Hoping they never find out, that they never find my poems, never read them or at least won’t understand it’s them I’m writing about. Though I’m afraid it’s frightfully obvious. Sometimes it feels as if writing those poems is a greater help to me right now than this blog.
The truth is I am having a difficult time right now. It’s not only my writing and blogging I’m losing control over. I have practically already lost control over my daily walks in the daylight, my photography sessions. More and more I find myself using old pictures that I’ve taken a day or a week before, because I haven’t been out all day. My sleeping… I never had any control over that. I did better for a while, but now it’s not working. I’ve talked about it so many times already, I feel as if I’m just repeating myself.
I find myself at a crossroad again and I don’t know which way I should take. Bridges have been burning behind me for some time, so there’s no turning back. Besides we can only move forward anyway. But I don’t know where I’m heading, where I want to go and I have no idea where any of the roads lead. Trying to heal and get better physically, psychologically and emotionally is naturally a good idea, but that’s not really a goal. That’s a journey that can lead practically anywhere I want to go. If only I knew. If I had a reason, something to look forward to maybe it would be easier.
I miss my old taxi job so much. One of the good things about that job was the photo opportunities, but also that I would have free time, at work, while waiting for customers, to take care of my social media. Unfortunately I don’t think there’s a way back to that job.Not that I have really investigated the possibilities, I am not well enough for that, but my sickness record is a big warning sign for any employer. Besides that, I have no idea what I want to do or anything. I don’t know what I should work for. I don’t really feel as if there’s any reason to keep fighting anymore, to keep trying, to go on. I can’t see anything at the end of the tunnel that makes it worth the struggle to get through it.
This is a bad time of the year for me to start having doubts about the point of trying. It’s getting darker outside and I can feel the darkness growing inside as well. When I publish a new post I think: “No one cares anyway.” That’s not the only time I feel as if no one cares. It happens a lot during the day and practically all night. A month or so ago I said I was trying to get into the habit of going out, to get as much daylight as possible, because I didn’t want to be sad and have SAD at the same time. I knew that wouldn’t be a good idea. I was right. It is not good thing. I am still sad, I’m not over it though it happened over a month ago. Maybe I should be, maybe that’s would have been more normal, but the truth is… I’m not. Not normal and not over it. I have written about that too. A lot. The deafening silence where there used to be notifications. The messages that doesn't get a reply in hours, days, weeks, where they used to be answered in a minute.
The darkness is making every day shorter that the previous and it’s going to get worse. The rain makes it even darker and it’s November, the rain month. Even got it’s own song, November Rain. Guns and Roses if you didn’t know. The darkness makes me want to hibernate, like bear, but when you can’t sleep it’s difficult. I don’t want to go out and meet people, I don’t want them to come over. My roommate would have been okay, but he’s back at his dad’s again. And the cat is just a cat. It’s difficult being face to face with people when you feel that they really don’t care. Messages are easier, you can hide your true feelings and lie with less effort. Pretending to be fine, trying to sound cheerful and positive while tears are running down your cheeks, because no one can see them. But when you don’t get any messages anymore, there’s not much to do.
I’m trying really hard not to give up. I’m sorry for being so negative, but I need some place where I can tell the truth. This is what the darkness does to me. And it’s only the beginning. This is going to be a long, difficult winter…
I’m sorry!!!
PS. I really need to start editing again. My writing is awful. I’m sorry!!!
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