Even in the Night, there are stars.

But my eyes are closed. As far as I am concerned, I lack coherence. What I feel and what I succeed at articulating are poles apart. 

I definitely feel as though I am at crossroads. I know what is safe, and advisable. But what feels right does not feel safe by human standards. I know this, but I do not know what the allure of the risk is. 

Other than the pain in my back, the tension in my body, and the weight on my chest, I cannot feel much else. I cannot feel much beyond “I need to get out of here”. And I cannot ignore my soul’s pleas for much longer. Everything hurts.

I think this the first time I have written something bleak without actually finding a silver lining. Without something to look forward to, without any form of motivation. I am spent. And though I can feel it, I still question it. Every symptom is now an excuse to get out of work, and not my body crying out for help. Suicidal ideation is now a tantrum. I am unsure of my own self, now more than ever, and my chest hurts.

As miserable as life has been lately, I got candy last Thursday. I got Oreos, on Wednesday, too. Since 5th September, I’ve been getting proof that you can experience hurt and care in good measure at the exact same time. You can be traumatised and love, and be loved. I hope life is kinder to us all.