trash anonymous

Discomfort drives change, and even when nothing can be changed, it still persists like a callous you get from holding onto life. There are no alternatives. Shit sucks.

Come bond over the misery in the DMs ✌️

the sixth stage of grief, not only accepting the loss, but shedding the weight of it. Shedding the weight of an imagined future that never came to be and seeing that it never existed in the first place.

I don't gamble - the concept never stuck with me, because I played to win and was met with anger and disappointment more often than not, erasing my joy and the will to try again. But while this has hypothetically saved me good money, the mentality came at a cost, because:

We don't live and work for an outcome, but for a chance at an outcome. I stayed for a chance at love. I did the best I could. This isn't a loss, it never was. It exists as a result of my best efforts. I did everything to facilitate a chance and it worked. It hurt because I considered it a loss, when it was still the best I could've done.

I think life is about building roads to where you want to go, even if the goal proves to be different than imagined once achieved. There are too few big moments in life - goals to be achieved - to dictate whether we're successful or not. The process has to be enjoyable, because the process is what life is made of, even if the goal proves to be misguided, lost or unachieved.

I thoroughly enjoyed every year of love and even grief that followed it, as hard as it is to believe. The road to a chance was a good endeavor.