Disclaimer: I often write to vent my frustrations and fear. This is one of those times. This is my release, my way of listening compassionately to my inner voice.
I am so physically exhausted right now. My body has been purging itself all week. The only thing I can think about is how my insides have nothing more to give. This whole situation has left me tired and weak, to the point that I’m physically shaking. But this isn’t something that I haven’t felt before. Pushing myself to physical and mental exhaustion is what started all my troubles some 22 years ago. When answers and absolutes seemed so much simpler to find.
I sometimes find myself asking the age-old question, why? Why do I continue on? Why am I pushing myself to be better? Why am I even telling this story? I have no sense of uniqueness in my abilities beyond those of anyone else. I’m a good talker, although I do tend to ramble. I am still grossly overweight and unhealthy. And the weight loss goals I had achieved were quickly erased after my recent surgery. Maybe, if anything I have an acute sense of awareness. That comes by naturally through conditioning, survival, and my mindfulness practices.
There’s really no point in me talking about this. It’s just me rambling on again. Just waiting to make it through to another dawn. To get up again and begin the routine of living, just like a billion other people. Still, I’m tired and I’m lonely, just throwing words to the wind. Knowing that in the darkness parts of my mind there’s just more loneliness. But we survive, I survive; clinging to threads of existence that at one time were real. Breathing and believing that there’s something more, until you have nothing more to give.
I am so physically exhausted right now. My body has been purging itself all week. The only thing I can think about is how my insides have nothing more to give. This whole situation has left me tired and weak, to the point that I’m physically shaking. But this isn’t something that I haven’t felt before. Pushing myself to physical and mental exhaustion is what started all my troubles some 22 years ago. When answers and absolutes seemed so much simpler to find.
I sometimes find myself asking the age-old question, why? Why do I continue on? Why am I pushing myself to be better? Why am I even telling this story? I have no sense of uniqueness in my abilities beyond those of anyone else. I’m a good talker, although I do tend to ramble. I am still grossly overweight and unhealthy. And the weight loss goals I had achieved were quickly erased after my recent surgery. Maybe, if anything I have an acute sense of awareness. That comes by naturally through conditioning, survival, and my mindfulness practices.
There’s really no point in me talking about this. It’s just me rambling on again. Just waiting to make it through to another dawn. To get up again and begin the routine of living, just like a billion other people. Still, I’m tired and I’m lonely, just throwing words to the wind. Knowing that in the darkness parts of my mind there’s just more loneliness. But we survive, I survive; clinging to threads of existence that at one time were real. Breathing and believing that there’s something more, until you have nothing more to give.
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