This petty pace, how slowly life seems to go when you have nothing to look forward to.
My best days are simply days when I don’t want to kill myself… but are they? At least on the other days I feel something. Maybe that is something to look forward to. When time finally stops and the pain is gone forever.
I’ve wasted my life and that’s okay, I did the best I could have done and it’s all I can ask of myself. I think I’ve made the most of what I was born with.
My therapist says that just surviving is a win but I am not sure I believe that. It’s a win for people who are trying to change or who believe change is possible. What a hollow victory, to endure another day in all its slowness.