HURT
Wednesday, April 27th, 2022 | San Francisco, CA
I feel thin. Stretched to bursting. Like I’m coming apart at the seams. Could just be the overwhelming amount of things happening. I am bowed under the weight of everything in my life. I am juggling it all. It’s tiring, but I try not to complain. I find myself thinking about Monika again, but not fondly.
While I am glad that any form of affection has faded, I’m also saddened by this.
Is this the fate that awaits all those who get close to me? Mutual distance? Forever tucked away in a corner of my mind? To never be thought about again except in nostalgic daydreams?
I hope not.
I lie awake at night thinking about it. How much I hurt. How much I’ve hurt others.
Wondering if the two are connected. I think they must be.
I think those fated to despair don’t despair because of all the awful shit they’ve done. No, they despair because, in the end, they have to live with that guilt.
And it eats you up inside.
