I can’t remember the last time I felt so defeated, so out of control. The whole of December was supposed to be my time—a time to wind down, reflect, and live out the month in all its glory. The last week, in particular, was going to be my escape, my chance to leave behind the chaos and finally breathe.
But instead, it was a month spent waiting. Counting the days until that final week, holding onto the hope that everything would come together. And then, as quickly as the days passed, it all fell apart. Nothing went as planned.
It felt like I was standing on the edge, hoping to step into something beautiful and fulfilling, only to fall into an abyss of unmet expectations. I had tried so hard—maybe too hard—to make things work, only to find that, no matter how much effort I put in, things just weren’t meant to be. The weight of it all crashed down on me. The plans I had, the dreams I’d built in my mind, crumbled. And the result was tears—tears that I couldn’t control, as I cried myself to sleep, feeling utterly lost. What’s the point of even trying anymore? Maybe some people are just never meant to be lucky. No matter what I do, it feels like I’m always on the losing side.
I find myself questioning the point of it all. Maybe it’s time to stop fighting so hard, stop waiting for things to turn around. Maybe it’s time to just exist, to live passively, and let life happen as it will. It’s exhausting to keep pushing. Everything seems so out of reach.
December wasn’t the end I had hoped for; it was a painful reminder that sometimes, no matter how much you wish, life isn’t kind to everyone. And maybe that’s the harsh reality I needed to accept.
The past few days weren’t as I had planned. Instead of the excitement I hoped for, I was filled with a growing sense of dread, knowing that the yearning and longing would soon return. And now that they have, it feels like a constant pull at my gut, every second of the day. The weight of it is unbearable, like a constant ache that won’t let go. I had so many expectations and plans, but in a single moment, it all faded away. This time, the longing feels deeper, more intense, and I’m afraid it might not end for a long while.
Maybe, after all, it is worth it. There’s a quiet voice in the back of my mind, whispering that one day, all of this—the longing, the pain, the waiting—will be worth it. It’s a distant hope, but it’s enough to keep me going, even when everything else feels overwhelming. All this while, I keep listening to this voice because maybe one day, all the pieces will fall into place, and this journey will make sense. Until then, I’ll carry this feeling, holding onto the possibility that there’s a reason behind it all.
I’m so tired though. So exhausted that I don’t even have the energy to write, even though I know I need to. It’s like my body and mind are drained, yet there’s this urge to keep going, to push through, to find out just how much I can handle. How much emotion can I feel? How deep can I go?
There’s a part of me that wonders if I’m strong enough to keep holding it together. I’ve been through so much already—so many highs and lows—but every time I feel like I’m reaching a breaking point, I can’t help but question if I’ll lose control again. I don’t want to slip into that downward spiral I’ve fallen into before, where everything feels like too much to bear.
But I can’t ignore these emotions. They are real, raw, and overwhelming. I have to face them. Maybe this time I’ll hold on, maybe I’ll rise above it, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll learn something new about myself—about what I’m truly capable of.
Someone recommended Turtles All the Way Down by John Green to me a long time ago, and one quote from the book has always stuck with me:
“You carry your loneliness wherever you go, and it’s always with you, even when you’re surrounded by other people.”
This quote captures the exhaustion and internal struggle I often feel—the weight of something heavy inside, even when the outside world may not understand. I think it’s okay to feel this way. Sometimes, simply acknowledging that weight is the first step toward processing it.
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