I hate my choices.
I can’t even blame the fact the options were few and many times they sucked. Immeasurably so might I add!
I don’t know whether to hate me or berate my sort. I refused to write. I abhorred sharing as if anyone cared really! I knew I was sinking so deeply into the what ifs and I was losing grip of things I had to hold on to, if not for me but for dignity’s sake.
My heaviest task: the burden of duty. That cross I willingly carry. But I’m not a martyr. I see tgings through, I take that cross, do what I must.
It’s important that I do what is right. It matters to me that I do, but at what cost? I’m losing my mind. Every day, I cry. I forget only when I’m busy to the point I cease to exist, blending into existence, finding myself in purpose. It’s not enough to wake up, resist, persist, endure.
Duty isn’t purpose just so you know.
I’m often upset at God, the only one I really have. The only one with enough power to change things. I call on him unceasingly. Rarely does he answer. Most often he does not and I’m left begging, crying, getting angry.
I’m upset again.
Why give a life that’s made to be endured? There’s no beauty or joy in endurance.
That’s my life, my goal, my pursuit: to endure…
3 and a half more years to go.
Hold on! Hold on!!
The clock ticks ever so slowly as my life passes me by!