leaves changing.

sitting in the dark and recollecting all the things that have become the makeup of my life to this point. feels like this is the only time i feel safe. the only times that i feel anything in general. at least.. anything that i don't immediately regret. at what point does life come to being something that i look forward to again. like field trips in elementary school. or recess. but instead, i'm stuck in the recesses of my brain about this situation, that situation; this person, that person. my mom occasionally asks if i think my therapist is right for me, and i tell her yes every time. as of lately, those "yes" replies are spoken with less and less conviction. i look at my forearms with the self-inflicted blade scars on them and think about covering them up with a tattoo or something. but what would that do for me in the long run honestly. i'll still know they're there. anytime i feel like my flaws are being highlighted in any way, shape or form, i find myself googling whether or not i'm suffering from something other than what I was officially diagnosed with last year (bipolar depression/suicidal tendencies). i've contemplated the idea of being narcissistic, a nymphomaniac, having multiple personalities, having a dissociative personality, and some others that I don't even feel like naming at the moment. i think, to a point, i'm still not fully accepting of myself since coming out. there's a lot to unpack with me, as i know it is with just about anybody.. but i feel like it's a level of difference with me. not to sound selfish, but i'm just not sure where the fine lines of balance fall. in this life, i've been told to help others but also help myself. at what point do you draw the line between trying to help someone and doing for yourself? where and when do these nuances slap you in the face and make you see where the balance of it all is? why do i feel like i'm asking questions that nobody really even knows the answers to? again, there's a lot to unpack with me. and i just feel like i'm at a point where i haven't even opened the suitcase. maybe it's because mercury is in retrograde, i'm not sure how to dissect these things. 

my dad, every once in a while, will ask me where i want to be in 5 years. the last time he did, i told him i want to be alive. he didn't really have an answer for it, he just deflected into something else. not to mention he stresses the fact that he wants to see grandkids before he dies. and those sentiments hit harder nowadays bc i found out earlier this year he has cancer. albeit, it's prostate cancer, but cancer nonetheless (since people love to say that it's highly treatable). I still see cancer as cancer, so to my point, it's disheartening that i feel rushed to make something happen now. which may explain how my lack of a love life after all these years of... whatever the fuck i've been doing has been going the way that it has. excluding maybe one or two people, i cannot blame any person that has come into my life for much. i've always felt like because of certain things that happened, i wasn't enough, nor would i be. but if that person didn't cause it, then that's nothing that they should have to shoulder. which is true. i feel i keep referencing a lot of unpacking that has to be done, but it's just as relevant in this part as it was the first time. this is actually really difficult for me to type at the moment, lol. I don't know. I wanna make things better. I wanna make the people in my life better. I wanna make my circumstances better. I wanna make myself better. But perhaps me wanting to do so much is what causes me to do... nothing. 

- TG3