Timelines

Some people believe that it's mathematically probable that this world repeats throughout the universe. That there are copies. Or near-copies. Similar timelines. A multi-verse. Parallel universes.

If there are, I hope there's a timeline out there where I made fewer mistakes. Or where I was able to keep it together. It felt like maybe it was close to working. It felt like it all could have been different. In this timeline, I'm saddled with my regret. All of it.

Writing again

I'm going to try to write here again. I like that it's anonymous. I like that no one reads it. But it's an opportunity to create a record. I need a reason to write. I have always come back to writing. Wherever I wandered or whatever else I tried to do, I come back and I write. I'm going to try to do that here. On this shitty blogger blog. I'm going to try to write things that are honest and real. I don't need anyone to read them. I don't need to be validated. I just need a place to say some of it. Hitting publish is just part of the record.

Days at home

Days at home tend to be the hardest. Everything slows down. I start thinking about my life. I get that all too familiar lump in my throat. My mind wanders to all my mistakes. Bad thoughts. Dark thoughts. Sometimes suicidal.

I think about how she left, and why she left, and how maybe I'll never be happy again. I start thinking about how I probably deserve to feel like this. Like I'm "broken." And maybe it's not fixable. I know it's not fixable with her. But maybe I'm not fixable.

I don't break down like I frequently did six months ago. Before I moved. I don't lie down in the shower or on my bathroom floor, and wail. Now my heart just hurts, and my eyes well up for a bit. Maybe this is progress. Maybe this is as good as I'll ever feel again. Maybe my future only involves moving from one distraction to the next.