I spend a large part of each day trying to remember why I’m still alive. It slips away from me so fast, and all I’m left with is the nagging sense that everything is wrong. The isolation, the loneliness, the longing, the fear. Things are not ‘ok’, and it’s unlikely they will ever be ‘ok’ again. They’re just not bad enough (yet) to overcome the terror of death. And until that changes, all I can do is prepare, and try to make things as easy for myself as I can. The problem is keeping that clear in my mind, when a large part of my brain wants to go into meltdown. To desperately lash out, or grasp at anything, to find some relief or salvation. To make it stop. But it won’t stop. There is no solution. There is only coping, better or worse. What I need is someone on my shoulder to remind me of that, every minute of every day. So I don’t sink into self-destructive behaviour. No relief, no way out, no solution. Only coping, better or worse. I need someone to slap me and shake me out of it every time I sink into this paralysed state.