2024

Never, ever, ever cared.

I was warned, I did not listen.

I was told. I could not be reasoned.

She left, in a confused spiral that extinguished any hopes and tarnished all the memories. Was that the final price I had to pay for going against the universe’s better judgement?

I have no one to blame but myself. I thought I knew better and went against the collected intuition and the good grace of my soul. I knew it was a bad idea, but I prayed and hoped that I would be wrong. I have been wrong on so many occasions in my life, I hoped that this would somehow become wrong into my favor.

Where the memories even real?

Everything I ever wanted, was to be with her. I got what I wanted. I worked so hard at it. I dreamt of a world, I saw the vision. I picked away at it. I angled, I prodded. I surrounded myself with the affirmations that I knew lingered. She loved me, a part of her did. Maybe it was a scared animal’s primal instinct. A stray cat knows it can take its chances. I knew the cost. I knew that it wouldn’t be forever. I followed the crumbs. I pleaded, I BEGGED. How pathetic in hindsight. But it was what I needed. I needed it so badly. Like an addict. The only one who has ever seen me and wanted a part of it. The honeymoon months where wonderful. I was caught in a spell, the poison took time. But nothing lasts forever, despite your well wishes. It was a relationship that was never built on trust, and avoiding the problems would simply leave the skeletons stuffing shirts in the closets until they could not bare anymore.

Here it comes.

Then I came home. March was incredibly difficult. Prior to that, she started looking at me with suspicions and began to accuse me of absurd things. Touching my nose was a signal. A signal to who? Who the fuck doesn’t touch their nose occasionally? Especially when it’s dry and in Winter. Then it was the government following them. I tried to reason, which came from a place of assurance. That was a fool’s errand. But I was home, after a particularly stressful rotation and it was over. That was that. The toy had been wounded up so tightly that it the spring finally gave up and it all unraveled at a neck breaking pace. She lost her head. She was gone. The woman I loved was dead, I stared into her eyes as they went from warmly lit to coldly calculated. I’ve seen it before. I called her out on it. I stood up for myself and it broke whatever little support that was there. She was gone. I never saw her again. I couldn’t even process it until months after.

Hello and Goodbye.

Even towards the end it started to wane and the pain came back. How can somebody be alone when they’re surrounded by so many people? How can you listen to so many stories, so many memories, so many assurances and it still doesn’t seep into your soul? I have so many questions and it feels like what little I knew, becomes lost knowledge as soon as I turn a corner. So the answers are gone and more questions are bought. To stack along the counter of uncertainty and then added to the pot. I stir. I ruminate. I stir. Where am I going in life? Who is at the wheel of this vessel? Do they even care? Are there no ports in this fucking storm?

Where to?

There is no new insight on the ceiling, don’t worry, I checked. I checked every corner of my room’s surfaces for a direction through the fog. It doesn’t exist said the whispers from the corner of my mind. You belong here said the damned sorry souls in the pit of my stomach.

I’m here.

The dissociation came back. Came back stronger than I have ever experienced. The stress, the guilty all of it came collecting at the same time. I suffered for it. I knew if I didn’t get help I wouldn’t exist anymore. I would lay in bed. I would sit on my couch. I would stand in the hallway and see me. See right through me. See right through my pathetic little life and my pathetic little problems. How small you feel when you see you in your kingdom, what little you’ve put together. It’s not even a comparison to other(s). There’s no thief here. It is simply joyless. To be alone is a curse. To be with somebody is a curse. To watch yourself is a curse. You see your mistakes. You repeat them. You admit them. You do learn from them but you still repeat them continuously and endlessly. You are addicted to the pain. The sweet sweet elixir that is melancholy.

It happens.

So I spoke to a counsellor. I spoke to friends, I spoke to family. It is what it is. Such is life. Here’s some understanding. Here’s some growth, fresh off the grill. From the top shelf textbook. Here’s ways to cope. Did you know you were in a book? Did you know you can move on from this?

Maybe. My whole world was and is full of maybes. I like maybes. It leaves a story with some mystery. That’s maybe the only interesting thing about me, if anyone would bother picking me up off the shelf where there is also hundreds, if not thousands of other stories with the same cover and small print. Who fucking cares? Even I don’t care, not really anyways. Who is this for?

Relax.

I constantly skirt against the bottom. Becoming quite addicted to the thrill of skiing against the eternal drowning abyss. I’ve made plans. I’ve romanticized how it would go down. Would I leave a note? Would I simply try and erase little scrap of who I am to the best of my ability. Or would I try and make it painless for myself and the people I love. Well, I suppose I did the latter. I still exist. There’s still so much pain in me that confuses me and distracts me.

I’m sorry.

I tried dating again. It didn’t go well. I matched with a few people. Some boring, some too full of themselves, some seemed reluctant or didn’t move at the pace that I wanted. I don’t fault them for that though. I clearly feel the need for a rebound, something to bury the burdens of my past in a really selfish way. I am sorry for those people, I suppose I am sorry to my past and current self because it annoyingly is only time that really helps with that problem. I connected with a woman who really was incredible. Intelligent, quippy, smart. Laughed at everything. I was star struck. I opened up. I got too invested. I felt the pressure and emotion. The knots when away. Then poof. Gone. Ghosted. It bothered me so much. So I tried to reach out, over and over. Closure? No? Wouldn’t be until 2025 where she said I scared her. Okay, fair enough, sorry. Genuinely sorry. Fucking eh. So I spiral. I spiral more and more and more. I hate myself. I wish I wasn’t myself. But in the corner of the room. I always knew. It was too good to be true. The story repeats itself.

Not my best.

Speaking to a counsellor did help. I can’t help but be melodramatic for the audience that isn’t there. It’s all a self important curtain show to have the vanity to type your thoughts on a website that nobody knows about. Only that I’m on the stage, in the crowd and behind stage. I picked an individual who seemed down to Earth and not really intimidating. He was a great individual. I truly appreciate him and his insight. Yet I feel guilty because I’ve wasted it or done nothing with it, except maybe use a few words of fluff to spice up my conversations.

Thank you.

I tried to make new friends. I tried to change my attitude. It ebbs and flows, trying to be a bit more positive. I struggle with it. Reflecting on it here, it clearly has a negative connotation but that is reflective of where I was in this year. 2024 sucked. It was traumatic, it was painful. It was nearly the end. But, I met some wonderful people and gained some insight. I might’ve misplaced it, or buried it on the endless waves of questions and uncertainties that crash against my rocks.

Here’s hoping.

Hey, on the positive side.. I still have a job!

That’s something.

Where do we go from here? My god, I really don’t know. I feel like I’ve been trying to survive and get through the next day, week month, year. I type this in the middle of 2025, and I have already felt a few setbacks even in this year. I fell in love, I lost that love. Made friends, lost friends. I am in so much emotional pain and yet I feel like I actively enjoy it.

Melancholy.

I’m sorry. What a mess to read. Emotionally charged, it’s full of cringe, full of shame, full of spite and there’s not really a whole lot to gain from it as a reader. Despite that there is an inkling of feeling better and a lot of self reflection for myself. I am focused on the misery that 2024 brought at a neck breaking pace but there was a bit of good buried in there. I spoke a great counselor who unpacked quite a bit. I had some laughs and some illuminated nights. Breathing may be heavy but exhaling gets better with time. So yeah, that’s a crummy recap of my thoughts and I hope I do better next year.

May the universe show me some mercy. I hope I can heal.

You will.