I’m so desperately lost. And there’s no way out. The only way forward is to let go. Not necessarily of life, but of the kind of life I feel is worthwhile. Accept, and let go. And I can’t bring myself to do it. My mind stubbornly clings to delusional obsessions. Because if it’s not going to be how I imagined, I can’t see any meaning in it.
There may still be experiences worth having out there, if I could just let go of what is lost. But I can’t. I can’t bear to do it. I refuse to accept. And in refusing, I wear myself down. My mind tears itself apart, endlessly searching for ways to make what it knows is impossible a feasible option.
I cannot let go, because it’s the only story I’ve ever told myself that would make things ok. And if that’s gone, there’s just…nothing. Just me and the pain of this world. Alone. And I don’t know how to tolerate that – how to exist with the reality of it. If there’s nothing to compensate for the pain of this world, then it seems intolerable.
So I obsessively try to tell myself the lie. That there is some way, some how, that it can be brought about. And it will be like I imagine, and feel like I imagine, and in those moments, everything will somehow be ok again.