I understand. I really do.
But the last defeat - the final loss - is when you give up.
And I know it's hard. I know about the yawning emptiness and silent desperation. I know about the endless white of the ceiling, the cold hard floor, the time trickling by until night comes, which is where nightmares and restless sleep lie. I know about that.
I know about uncontrollable sobs, all alone, the sounds you cannot hold back even if you tried. When your fingers turn cold and the world starts to spin, and you feel wretched but there are still things to do. There are still things to do and you must still be strong and you are thinking this even when you are crying your guts out.
I know what it feels like to hate everything and everyone, to be so upset and afraid and angry that you want to hurt something, hurt someone. I know what it feels like to hate yourself.
You think life has treated you unfairly and that you deserve better. You think you're the victim of a long line of unfairness.
But guess what? This isn't special. Everyone has their own bleeding scars and thousand ton weights to lug around. I kind of think the weights are optional - that we can eventually learn to drop them, learn that we too are allowed to live lightly. I think the scars...I don't know about those, really. But I know that I am not alone, and you are not alone, and we are not the main characters of a tragedy.
Is life long or short? Is it hard or easy? I..
So, since a while ago, I have given up being 'good'. I know I'm not good. I know where some (not all) of my cracks are, and I have to learn to work with them in the interim while I learn how to fill them up.
I'm not 'good'. But that's ok.
I'm just myself. And I'm ok.