A Lack Of Hope

I’m frightened as fuck. I may have been playing it cool the past two weeks. I may have been incautiously optimistic and, once again, over confident in my ability to soldier on.

 

I haven’t been sleeping right. I’ve forgone my much required afternoon naps for a near obsessive news binge. “I need to know,” I tell myself. “I need to know everything.”

I don’t need to know everything. I only need to know myself and how this whole fiasco is affecting me. And it’s not affecting me right. I feel the hits on my mental health, but I am foolishly laughing it all off because I have to remain composed. But no, not this time. I don’t need to be composed on a crisis. I am allowed to panic and be afraid.

 

I’m frightened as fuck. The past year has taught me that my future is fluid. Uncertain, but fluid. With fluidity comes adaptability. Right now, however, I can’t see myself adapting fully to the situation before me. I feel like it’s all too much. I feel like I’m still not well-equipped to deal with what’s already happening out there, and inside of my head.

 

Right now, I can’t even see my future. And that frightens me. I pride myself as one who sees everything – but my future, that I can’t see. Not anymore.

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