i feel like i’m perched on the edge of a blade, balanced there. it’s fragile, and tenuous, and there are circling monsters all around. it would take little to send me over and i’m tired. i’m so tired of the fight.

it’s fatiguing when you’ve been fighting for years, and you do all the right things, and you go through the motions, but the demons are still there, waiting and circling, taunting you, telling you all the ways you’re wrong.

i resent the need to make the effort, at times. i resent trying to stay positive. i resent that simple things like eating are such a challenge.

i hate the dark thoughts i’m constantly battling back. i don’t want to focus on the things i can control.

i want to rage and scream and cry out about the unfairness of it all, even though i’m aware that no one promised life would be fair.

i want to run.

i’ve no idea where i’d go or how i’d get there. i suspect there would be as uncomfortable and miserable as here and yet sometimes, it’s all i think about.

i resent, at times, the presence of the people in my life. i resent their care and concern and attention. i resent the demands their existence places on me. if i were alone, no friends or family or children, i wouldn’t feel obligated to stay here, obligated to fight. i could just drift away into the dark quiet.

the exhaustion gets to you. waking up yet again to fight, but sometimes i don’t want to. i want to be free. i want peace. i want the negative voices gone, the ugly thoughts silenced, and the pain erased.

sometimes, it seems that the fight only leads to more fighting. it seems pointless at times. i want the light at the end of the tunnel, but i worry i’ll never get there.

i worry it’s a train.

i continue to balance on the edge of the knife, so tired, still hoping that one day, if nothing else, i’ll at least advance to a two by four, so that if the battles continue to rage, i’ll have the advantage of moderately more secure footing.

photo credits: Shutterstock, Dreamtime.

(december 17, 2017)