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My hair looks so pitiful. It looks how I feel inside. There's a bald spot growing and I can see my scalp from every angle now. I have been throwing it up in a messy bun for years. I can't remember the last time I was able to wear it down without showing skin through the sparse strands I have left. I don't know if this will be permanent. I hope not. Because if it is, it probably means my insides will be too.
This life is killing me. Not in the same way it kills most, slowly but surely we all die. But killing killing me, like every day there is possibility that I might just die. I remember thinking the other day, I woke up and the sun was shining in around the edges of the curtains in the bedroom - I'm not dead, I didn't die. I felt a sort of listless despair that I was still here. I've been checking in every day or so to see where I am at with that. And I'm okay with dying right now. I just don't want to be aware of the fact. But stuff is too heavy for me to carry at this moment. So if I need to just give in, I'm okay with that.
A couple years ago these thoughts would have terrified me. But a couple years ago I wasn't sitting here knowing what I have been through, what I've witnessed and what is yet to come. There were so many truths that have poured out that have astounded me that I am almost annoyed I never gave whim to in my past. I am regretful for my own mental health and state of mind that some of these things I've come to terms with recently have completely derailed my trajectory in life because of my naivety. Every day I understand more and more how completely childish I am and how completely useless is the work I thought I was doing to better myself has become. Because I have to start over. I have to raise myself from infancy to adulthood --- again.
*Sigh* I don't know how to begin again. I'm so tired. I'm 37 right now. This is halfway to the grave. I'm not sure I have it in me to relearn everything I ever knew. I'm not sure I want to. I just want to go to sleep. And if I don't wake up, that's okay too.
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