I Do Not Want to Think of the Past

I do not want to think of the past, to recount the pain, the attempts, the failures, the hopes, the wishes, the belief, the trust, the utter futility of it all ultimately, no matter how much I try to make it different or believe it is different than it is.

I do not want to think about the future. I can’t see how to get where I want to be. I do not want to dream or hope. I do not want to make plans only to dash them on the rocks of my inability to believe myself worthy of my dreams come true. I do not want to think about what makes it all feel impossible, undoable. I do not want to think of all the energy, all the effort I will have to muster, if I ever hope to extricate myself from my hopes and dreams and to find a reality where I can thrive.

I do not want to feel how angry I am at myself or having been so blind, for having tried so hard, for having hoped and dreamed and tried so much.

I do not want to think about the years lost to hope and efforts and attempts and good hearted, loving, open-hearted tries to help and heal and cure and make it all OK.

I do not want to remember my childhood of trying to make everything OK for everyone around me, of trying to make my mother happy and my parents OK, though those memories, distant as they are, are much less painful and safer than the thoughts and feelings I want nothing to do with now – if only they weren’t so acutely related.

She's trying hard as hell to live her life as well as she can, but it hurts like hell when shit goes down and it all hits the fan at once. That's where she is right now.

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