Stress.

Ethan’s suicide has left me feeling older… feeling raw… weakened… stripped of any kind of emotional fortitude. I think my whole sense of control is gone… I’m easily more restless and less patient. More stressed… easily angered, easily saddened. Irritable… irrational… or worst of all, exhausted and numb. More apt to cry for a song or a movie. And it is like suddenly I am confronted by the realization that I can’t control anything. I can’t fix this. I can’t make thing better just by smiling and by the force of will.  And I think that is why motion is important. I think that is why the drama in the lives of others… is more difficult to handle. Why I want to just cut myself off from those people… that seem to draw on negative emotions, or require constant help. I can usually make it through days or weeks at a time, but there comes a moment which fills me with dread… that moment when I feel like I can’t continue… where I am near quitting. There is fear in that… and almost a sense of panic. What if I quit? I don’t know what I am going to do or where to go with it. And I am not sure what that means… Is it a fuck you all to the world, or to God?… or some place where you begin again to climb out from? 

Whatever it is… I don’t quit. I get up. I find the strength to do something… no matter how ordinary and mundane… and I keep moving.

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