Don’t tell me it gets better

There is something to be said about the pursuit of independence. It is endearing and admirable, but sometimes, that is all it is. It is a futile attempt at convincing yourself that you are an autonomous being, with full control over your circumstances. More often than not, you succumb to things greater than yourself, shrink because you have no energy left.

Some days, I am arrested with the thought that I could give up this whole life and not miss it. So unattached and uninspired, there are very few things that I would fight to hold on to. This scares me a little. But I’m also just waiting to welcome the day that I will wake up, and the days would have blurred into years, and the years won’t feel so bad anymore, and the regret won’t look like regret, and I can just let it go.

Loneliness is no longer something to regret. It is how I have saved myself, time and time again, and it is how I know that I’ll be safe. Until someone can convince me otherwise, I want to stay that way. Alone is how I stay safe, how I’ve become strong, how I choose to stay. What’s the alternative?

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