I could write a list

I could, quite literally, write a list of the all the shit that has happened to me this year.

Big, medium and small occurrences that have upset me, demotivated me and left me feeling like this is some big test.

No single body knows everything, and I think that’s okay, you do have to vent your pain across a board, otherwise it is just offloading and passing the torch to one person.

But it means expectations aren’t adjusted, it means you’re meant to be yourself.

I’m not myself right now.

The worst parts are the health issues. Not my own, but others. It’s horrible watching someone drive-by death. Voluntarily, Involuntarily.

It hurts knowing you aren’t seen in the light you want to be, or the light you feel you have worked hard for. The lesson that karma may not be what you thought it was, has come tumbling down around me. If it does exist, it is playing the long-game.

Ultimately I have to keep playing. That’s the clincher. I either passively go about my duties or I pick myself up and try a bit harder. Even that sentence makes my skin crawl. I have never been the person that doesn’t make positive change. But when every move ends badly, people let you down, and there’s nothing to look forward to anymore, you’re flat. Rolled over and over again by the bolshy bitch, life.

I’m very very very tired

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