In Retrospect: The Finale

The past three years have been a whirlwind of ups and downs. It all started on the heels of the best summer of my life and has culminated in what I could probably say has been the worst year of my life. To go from such heights of feeling total and utter emotional fulfillment to a level of despondence that had the knife at my throat. To see all that I desired and loved wither away until all I could hope to desire was death. To still be reeling at the detriment of my own well being.

I have loved and lost much since that first drunken night expressing feelings that lead to nothing.

Well not nothing. Because of that confession I saw myself leave my family home to venture out on my own to be semi self sufficient. I made plans to create a life with someone and felt love spring anew.

Though all those plans and feelings and hopes have been consumed by the passing of time. No future existed with ties to those lines and because of the ultimate failure of the endeavor I feel bereft of the will to live beyond it.

I've been in a cycle of self consuming suicidal tendencies, anxious paralysis, and fear of loss. Too much of a coward to end it all and too much of a coward to make things better.

I feared that a year hence my last update things would be different. I could never have imagined that they'd be the same in so many ways. With these choices I feel like a hamster on a wheel.

Yet, things don't all remain. I lose with each revolution. I've lost friends and love. I've lost prospects for the future. I've lost my will to carry on.

Though that string has been weak for years. I've attempted to rebuild it with each passing day. With each new interaction. And in 2017 I felt I was going in the right direction. But damn it all if I didn't trip myself up in the process.

I wasn't crippled by a relationship. I wasn't lost in the depths of depression. I wasn't wishing for death. Until I made that fatal mistake. Those drunken words.

All ups since that day have been false positives. Leading me longer down this road of self destruction I thought I was off all those years ago.

I've sullied my haven and now I feel that is nothing that can bring me back from this self inflicted hell.

People are better off without me. Not the me they have in their minds, not the me they've known and come to love, the me that exists right now sitting in this chair lamenting life. A mentally crippled soul, courting death with each passing breath.

I love you but that love will only go so far.

Until The End

A life is like a book in a library every growing in bounds. More rows erected, more shelves built, more hallways dug out of stone to house all the stories of millions of lights burning in the void.

When the light of one life ends it doesn't blink out of existence. The stories of others let the light linger until their collective light is out. Some lights, lights of legends, burn even now. The original light having been snuffed out eons ago yet stoked by the hands of those that wish to keep icons blazing for future generations to have a glimpse at what was meant as "a good life".

Each pillar of light that stands the test of time, each beacon of humanity shines out the best of us...and the worst of us, for not all lights are an example of what to achieve. They are also a warning.

We must remember the examples around us and behind us to help illuminate the future we seek to create. All lights shine with a different hue but the shine with a purpose.

Don't let the lights go out, until the need for light is finally over. From now until the end.

One more

So close to the finish line yet it seems to retreat at ever passing step, every passing breath. All lines etched into my skin tell a story of repetition. A revolution waged against the past to vie for a place at the seat of tables wrought with the lost dreams and festering woes of past selves. Bones washed clean with the morning tides re-purposed as sign posts, pointing every which way except the direction for progression. Nothing need be said nor do words exist to express the level of fear and doubt and confusion related to journeys begun at the womb and left at the side of the road in a hurricane. Better to be swept up then to be nailed down to weather the passing seasons with a stoic expression. Tempering the mind through the fire of self immolation and ripping to shreds what's left as kindling for future endeavors. Dust remains. Nothing less nothing more.