Fuck

I do not think it matter what amount of personal tragedies you have in your life. All of these things pail in comparison to a personal crisis. A questioning of faith. An uncertainty of what exactly your life has become. A rut.

The personal tragedies, are merely blocks building in a foundation for this total and utter consumption of nothingness.

There’s a reason you don’t bring up your own personal midlife crisis in conversation. Its mere recollection stings more than a death in the family, or a past drug problem.

It is the dark and scary culmination that these building blocks lead up to.

Imagine something, that nobody will talk about. You cant consult a person about, because they would rather just not think back to it. I try and describe to people what my daily life feels like, I struggle for an explanation of the hardship that it is, And even as I sit before this dark screen, I cant. I get very close at times, I feel like I have finally accomplished definition, have a temporary lapse of happiness that perhaps the person I have picked to consul will offer guidance, some kind of path. But they all just say it will get better. I have grown weary of hearing this phrase with no concrete evidence behind it.

“What if it never gets better?”

“Then you….”

When I try to answer the question above, I am genuinely frightened, because there is no answer, and I don’t know if I can keep going like this.

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