This cyclical tide of my own demise has worn me as thin as tissue paper; easily crumpled, ripped, and discarded. I spend far more time stewing about what I want than actually trying to achieve it. I wallow in my own failure. I worry about all of everything. I let fear cripple me more than you could ever know. And the saddest thing is that I am acutely aware of my behavior and how I am clearly sabotaging myself, yet I continue to do it anyway.
I reflect on who I was a few years ago, before it all came tumbling down. I was not happy and perfect before, either, and actually was still quite a mess, but it was a much tidier mess than I have been as of late, to be sure. I miss that person a great deal, for I still feel as though I've been invaded by some stranger who has taken over my body and mind. This unfamiliar stranger who is altogether unnerving.
With this acknowledgement of the mean and cruel creature within me, I am hereby performing an exorcism of sorts. I can no longer live with this pattern of misery, and no amount of time will change what's going on inside of me without me proactively turning the tide myself. I shall reach into the heavens and scoot the moon around just so, if necessary. I just want to be who I am again... I must be...
