So I’ve come to this –
It’s like my life has been a summation of ‘so close’, ‘what a waste’ and ‘what’s the point’.
And it’s a struggle to discern if this is fate or a painful self-inflicted mishap, and accept that the numbers tally up to what it is and that life will go on, as it is. When you lose a step you can still nudge your way forward. Waddle through sticky mud but inch by inch still carve a path forwards. Leeches penetrate your skin and feed on your lifeblood, but you are strong and you do not feel a thing. Only when you are fulfilled upon and can’t make out the bacteria in your nails from the mud on your toes, when every blade of grass sheds the same edge of green and you stumble upon foot prints, only to find them your own. When weeks turn to months and end in a year. As bitter and undeterred as you may feel. There is only one direction left. And you know it.
Cause when you’ve hit rock bottom, there is no point fighting anymore.