#datstruggle

when the subjects make you cringe and want to shut down?

Honestly I'm not sure writing can give me as much peace as it used to. There are times when I feel that fire ignite in my head, urging me to run to the laptop and start typing. However, I've been ignoring those urges for a year now. A whole fucking year. The passion seemed to disintegrate in my fingers before I could get the words down.

I don't want to write about my currently incurable addiction.

I don't want to write about him going down hill.

I don't want to write about my parents nearing death.

I already think about those issues enough. Besides, they aren't even issues in the sense of them being troublesome. The way I've been perceiving it, is that they're just a couple of factors that play a role in my life. They're not fixable, and they're not worth confronting. Because for now, they're all out of my hands.

It is getting colder though, and not just in the literal sense.

I feel like I'm in a well, blinded from reality by the tall cement. I can see a light at the top. I use cracks in the cement as leverages, trying to get out, but I always lose the energy to make the full climb.

I keep saying I'm not ready yet, but I don't think it's all up to me this time.

It really is environmental, and due to circumstances, no, I can't leave the well for now.

But, since when does waiting for something make it happen?

What am I even waiting for, exactly? The walls around me to burst?

They can't collapse, unless I make them.