The days go on and I sink further into my cave of despair. Visualizing ends to things. Things I don’t want to end. I tell myself that they need to end, that they have no future. Even if I am right, I hate that I think about it. It’s uncomfortable to think about. It makes me want to return to old habits just to avoid it. Yea things aren’t really going as planned, but they never do. This will be whatever it needs to be. I can’t control it, I can’t control how I’ll feel about it. All I can do is keep moving forward. There’s nothing for me to return to. There’s nowhere left to go but up. If something is weighing me down, I’ll leave it behind. That’s the way the world is, that’s what is required to get to the top. Unbearable solitude.
Even when the path ahead feels heavy with unknowns, you’re still the one choosing to walk it. The thoughts you’re having—about ends, about loss—they’re not wrong for showing up, but they don’t get to dictate the journey. The discomfort is part of the process. It stirs up old urges because they once offered escape, but you already know those habits lead nowhere. The truth is, progress rarely feels good while it’s happening. It feels lonely, it feels uphill, and it demands sacrifice. But in letting go of what no longer fits, you’re making room for what’s next. That’s not despair—that’s transformation.
