The Star Trek fandom is content to worship the ashes rather than tend to the flame.

I get it. You want to continue believing in that person because of what they formerly showed you. You remember what it used to be like and you continue to hold out hope that if you just continue to give them chances, that things can be like that again.

You continue to try talking to them. You continue to try setting your boundaries only to find that they do nothing but push up against and run over them as if you said nothing at all.

It's sad, I know. You want to revive those memories and make more of them with this person. You can't, though. The longer you try holding on, the more you're sacrificing your peace and stifling your growth as a person. You do not deserve that.

Stagnation is a constant.

Tethered to a single straight line

That doesn't stray from its path,

And never, ever fluctuates.

In the corner of my eye,

There is a hummingbird moth,

An outlier amongst the bees,

Nurturing the daisies.

It bridges the gap of night and day;

After every spin of the earth,

Its moon remains the same—

A serene, fixed routine.

So then, if the moth is faithful,

Unmoving in its ways,

Why does it oscillate?

What compels it to change?

Perhaps I will never know.

I have been stagnant far too long:

A path that never seesaws,

A line that never bends.

Is there no grace found in patterns?

Repetition is all I ever sought.

But the moth lands on my hand,

Begging me to evolve.

But even in the bleakest of circumstances, creativity remains possible. It is possible in everything you do, including activities that seem completely rigid and mechanical. It is possible in your relations with other people, especially in the way you help them meet their needs. It is possible even as the practice of making art, although it might take some time for this to become a reality.