It appears that I don’t mark the highs enough and the lows too often.

The endless loops of anxiety, uncertainty, and sheer terror have left me an unproductive wreck. Memory is a tricky thing – it makes the past look a lot better or worse depending on what I want it to say, and right now, it has me longing for something that I know never existed. The possibility of the future in a past that never was haunts everything that I think about right now. Exhaustion is the only present. But this may not be true; this is only me making coherent a collection of sensations at 2.30 am – never a good time to try making sense of anything. Time.

Why are you wavering?


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