my writing feels a bit different now. the big things still happen, but i’ve stopped speaking on them immediately, whether it be out of lack of energy or lack of surprise anymore. i’m sitting with events for days after they’ve happened, bouncing between “i’m going to avoid everything” and “i’m going to ignore everything.” some days i think i’m the only problem, other days i think i’m the only solution. either thought is only half the picture. i know i’ve messed up, and i know i’m the only person who can forgive me for it. shouldn’t i be able to steer towards right from wrong? but i keep thinking i’m not strong enough to live for myself. thinking it’s fair punishment to obey guilt and unforgiving hands. i can punish myself a million times over and it won’t do anything but tear me to pieces. punishment can't erase a permanent thing. the past is locked in.