Trapped in a body that is constantly at war with itself.
Trapped in a novel full of horror hidden on the top shelf.
Stuck in a never ending cycle of pain.
Stuck not knowing if I’ll ever feel “normal” again.
Terrified I’ll never find the answers I’m looking for.
Terrified this is it. There is nothing more.
Tired of feeling like I’m losing my sanity on any given day.
Tired of trying to explain it all to everyone else with out knowing what to say.
Exhausted from painting a smile on my face.
Exhausted of trying to keep up the pace.
Drained from another sleepless night.
Drained from each & every fight.
I refuse to let this hell consume me.
I refuse to accept that it will just be what it will be.
I still have hope for the future.
& I will always hope for some kind of a cure.
It’s been a minute. .I know. & why it has is because I’m so sick and tired of being sick and tired so I can only imagine that others are sick and tired of hearing about me being sick and tired. (See a pattern there?! 🙄)
I dislike sympathy and pity parties for myself but some days it’s really hard to pull yourself out of them when no one seems to have concrete answers as to why i can’t move some days without being in excruciating pain. Days when I am lying on the floor begging and pleading to whatever god or whoever you believe in to make it stop. . Offering any kind of plea bargain to just make the pain go away for one night. . .
And then the morning sun rises & another day starts with bare minimum sleep & pain I don’t have words to describe. . . But i keep on keeping on cause that’s what I do. I push passed the pain; every moment of every day because I have no answers. No choices. No explanations. I just have to keep going because i know if you stop. . . I am done. Finished. It’s all over.
Each day is a new beginning. Each day is a clean slate to try to push forward and make the most of that day. Some days aren’t easy. And some days down right suck. . . But every day I show up and keep trying. . .