It's the third of November, early hours of the morning. I have been getting a bit sad lately. I know I'm holding my life with strings. I felt that I may be ready to write again. Write the deciding moments follow up post. Writing always helps me.
Two months ago to this day I wrote my last post. I just realised I hadn't published it, it's out there now, together with another one written a couple of days beforehand.
And it all came back. How close I was to losing it. I was on my last legs. It has only been two months but some hope has been restored, some confidence has returned. I can see a way out but I am extremely aware how feeble and tenuous the situation is.
Nonetheless, most of those feelings are there still, they haven't gone away. There hasn't been a magic wand moment. I can still feel so afraid at how fragile it all is and I don't know how I'm holding it all together. In fact I'm scared of even thinking about it and making it real.
I want to just hide it all away. Cover my ears and be distracted. Hoping that it will, magically, go away. Thinking is bad. For me it means obsessing. So I can't do it. I'll just live through books and television and video games. They are my refuge. Keeping me safe from my insanities and insecurities and hopelessness.
I just need to hold to that thought, that faint hope, that maybe there is a way and just follow that road.