I don’t really know why I’m here, but I come back every once in a while. Maybe it’s a December thing.
For context, you have a boyfriend now, you live together actually. But you also had your heart broken pretty fucking hard. You got a cat to make up for it. She’s not very affectionate, but you coexist and it’s nice. You finally accepted your sexuality and you don’t feel ashamed about it. Your anxiety isn’t gone, but it’s not so bad. You have a full time job which you hate, but it introduced you to some people that you love. Its been over two years now and while you get close, you haven’t quit yet.
Every so often I read your words, and I wish I could go back. I don’t know if I could change anything, but I wish I could pet your hair and say I’m sorry that you feel so fucking sad all the time. I’m sorry you feel like a failure and that you’re not good enough. I’m sorry that you carry so much pain inside you, and that you have no one you can talk to.
There are still nights I cry myself to sleep. Nights where I blow snot under the collar of my shirt and struggle to breathe. I still binge and purge and avoid looking at mirrors. I still feel feelings a little too much and sometimes I feel nothing at all.
I don’t have any answers. I don’t feel any wiser or any stronger or any better than you. In fact, right now, I feel exactly like you. I mean shit, I’ve probably cried more this year than I’ve ever cried in my life. I still find myself tumbling through the same void and all I can do is stare at the ceiling and wait and wait and wait for it to pass. It’s hard. It’s never not going to be hard. But slowly you find that the not-so-bad moments start to string themselves together, and if you’re lucky, they sometimes turn into days. Though they never last long, it’s enough to get by.
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