October 21, 2019
I can’t do this.
Of course you can.
I can’t. I can’t talk about this. I thought I was done with it. I thought it would be easy enough to go back over this, but I can’t.
Tell me why not, then?
I just…I just remember how easy it was to fuck up so badly. I did that a few weeks ago, too. I fucked up real bad, and now I’m stuck with the consequences, all the mechanics of tending to a wound, and all I can think about is how easy it was. It was so easy. It was so easy.
Perhaps that’s part of what snaps you back into place. Perhaps that’s part of what keeps you from following through. The mechanics of wound care. The laser focus on not doing it. Perhaps that’s what saves you, in the end: the realization that you have a body leads to the realization that you’re alive, confronting mortality leads to the acceptance of life.
It’s harder to not.