I guess you can say I’ve put a halt to my dreams; actually planning out my dreams and materializing them. I’ve even stopped planning for the future. Don’t even talk about my plans for next year, I’ve even stopped planning for next week, and tomorrow. I’ve decided to live the day as it comes, to feel the rush of the panic and then the strength that comes afterwards (I find that to be a bit ironic, but it happens) when I open my eyes each morning and realize that it’s just another day I have to live. On one hand, with each morning that I wake up to I feel hopelessly lost and I dread for it to happen again, but on the other hand I feel thankful for every day that I get to walk, talk and breathe again.
I’m not sure if that’s my survival instincts kicking in or I’m numbed to the point where everything feels so ridiculously surreal. This hasn’t sunk in just yet, not properly anyway. There are moments when I forget about it and live life normally, up until the moment when my mind goes into overdrive, triggered by a sneaking thought that decided to blow up – the things I’d have to do without now, the things I can’t have, the future I can’t live. That will be the moment when I panic, when all helplessness engulfs me, when sometimes I can’t even breathe, when it dawns on me that I cannot survive this or even if i do, it’s going to be one hell of a bumpy ride.
I have lost my faith, I have lost material wealth, I have lost the sense of having a family, I have lost my purpose and I have come close to losing my dignity.
Really, I don’t think there’s much more of me left to lose these days.
Damn it, I hate feeling helpless. This absurdity isn’t like me at all.