I’ve been spend­ing too much time around friends and fallen heroes, stay­ing up too late, run­ning away from my thoughts, pun­ish­ing my body, killing myself one day at a time. The exhaus­tion is numb­ing — exactly what I need — but I know I can’t keep this up for­ever. I used to lose a day here and there, think it’s Wednesday on a Thursday. Now I lose entire weeks. I’ve decided that it’s all okay as long as shit gets done.

Maybe that’s why I’ve been feel­ing trapped. I’m too busy to see past things as they are right now, a vic­tim of my own self-distraction, so it feels like I’ll be here for­ever, stuck in this end­less loop of heal­ing and heartbreak.

I’m still try­ing to find that del­i­cate bal­ance between accept­ing myself (which risks com­pla­cency) and striv­ing to improve (and the con­stant dis­sat­is­fac­tion). At the very least, I’ve come to the real­iza­tion that there’s a dif­fer­ence between the things that hap­pen to us and the way we react or deal with them, and since you have no say in the for­mer, all you can do is improve the latter.

Sometimes you have to die a lit­tle inside to fig­ure that out.