Something to keep track of what is going on in life, for all to see or just for me.
I wonder sometimes, if time loops and we get another shot at life. I’d love for it to, to go back and redo everything. I know this isn’t true and it’s one long road to the inevitable heat death of the universe, but it would be nice if it did loop back.
I border most days on whether I should find out, to see what happens. To see who’s right. Any option seems better.
I have a weird quirk, I can’t distinguish romantic from platonic. As far as I am concerned, they are the same thing. The only difference being that one says they are dating and the other doesn’t. Otherwise, they feel the same and are treated the same to me.
Saturday, the 17th I brought my best friend (and chosen sister) McDonald’s and brought it to her for lunch. I intended it to be a happy moment for her, but of course some idiot had to ruin it by ordering 18 different things from the menu and proceed to take up almost her entire lunch hour. I wanted that to be a happy moment, a free lunch from her best friend. A happy memory to remember me by.
I got home, I spent 30 minutes in the driver’s seat crying. Balling my eyes out. I knew I had made up my mind, I knew what I was going to do. Yet I was so hurt that my last gesture was ruined by someone with the munchies. Yet I still had to do it, even more so than before. I was a failure, even at the end.
After I cried, I left, I said nothing. I turned off my phone and drove in silence for nearly an hour. I drove up the mountain side, I drove into a secluded wooded area I knew was not traveled often in the winter. I had what I needed to go back to where I came from, to be done with this.
I got out of my car, I stood under the tree I thought looked best, and then turned around and just stared. There was a river and I was facing it. Across from the river I could see eyes peering at me from the other side. I didn’t know what it was, but it scared me, and in that moment of fear I realized I couldn’t do it. I got back in my car and lost control, I broke down. Even this was a failure.
I called 988, within seconds a lovely young woman picked up the line. She was soothing, soft, and listened intently. She made it clear I was free to talk to her, she would give me all the time I needed. She did. For nearly an hour I talked to her. She sparingly, but thoughtfully offered me advice, she made small talk when needed, and she kept me calm and grounded. She was amazing. Slowly but surely I fell back to Earth, I wasn’t calm, but I wasn’t unsafe. I knew I was going to make it.
I told my partner and I told my best friend (who in the future I will refer to as my sister), they were assuring. They didn’t hate me for what I had done, but were happy I stepped back from that ledge and choose to live another day.
They reminded me why I am still here, they reminded me that I have people who care for me deeply, and that I have to make it through life for them.
Why is it hard to feel like I did something good and not like I fucked up? I wish I could convince myself otherwise, but unfortunately I think I really am a fuck up.
The worst part of living in the Northeast is the snow. Nearly dying on the way to work, to try and help those who aren’t even appreciative of the help. Insane.
A panic attack while doing laundry, what the fuck? Weird timing. Unfortunately even your best days can be tough. To add insult to injury, they came back for a moment there. Loud, overbearing; controlling. They went away to their quiet little slumber eventually, but for a moment there I believed what they were saying.