Looking back, I really have a lot of respect now for the people I saw in Afghanistan. I honestly don't know now how most of the people in that place didn't off themselves because their lives were so hopeless. How do you keep going from day to day, in the face of some really hard things, when you have no hope? Well, I guess that was the difference.... they saw the way things were going and were able to get some hope from it. Kids able to go to school, people able to do things they hadn't been able to before, that was what gave them hope that things would be better. God, I wish I had something like that. Whatever was keeping me going the last few weeks, it's almost gone and I can feel it. Things are really starting to slide toward that unrecoverable drop, and I can't find the will to try and stop them. I mean, I know I should, my brain's screaming at me to DO something, but..... it's just not there. How am I supposed to try and save this if I don't think things are ever going to get better? That thing that I've been holding on to, what I guess gave me the little drive and direction I managed to have.... I realize now that even that wouldn't fix things. Nothing's changed in my heart, but I don't know that we could both say that.
I was going through my dresser the other day, putting away some clothes (an actual moment of productivity, yay!), and I found some things that she'd written a while back. And, like an idiot, I read them over again. How did it ever come to this? Reading those words, it's..... I can't even imagine what kind of hell I must have put her through to kill what she felt for me. I guess I was always kind of afraid that I would turn out to be just like everyone else who'd hurt her, and I wasn't far off the mark. So congratulations to me, I managed to destroy the one thing I should have done anything to protect. Maybe doing anything I could to help her get home, at the cost of any chance of being able to pull things together for myself and go on with my life.... maybe I did save something of it in the end. If she can be happy now (and I know she can), then maybe I didn't do everything wrong. Maybe God or whatever blind forces govern the universe in his name will see that and decide I wasn't a total piece of shit. I have no more delusions; I'm never gonna be able to fix things here. There's just no way. I got no money, no one to turn to..... and no hope. It all comes back to that, how I can't see any reason to even try to get things back on track. If this is where the rest of my life is headed, then I don't want it. Every night when I go to sleep, I'm just hoping with all I have left that it's the last time, that I won't have to open my eyes and see another day, because what's gonna be different about that day? Nothing. I'm still gonna be here, and I'm still gonna have this great bleeding wound in my heart, and my whole life is still pouring out of it.
I don't blame anyone for what happened, except myself. The things I did, and the things I didn't do, it was my choice, no matter what my intentions were. So there it is; I destroyed everything I held dear, utterly and completely. I honestly don't know what's gonna happen to me now, if I'll even be able to go on with this shattered wreck of a life. I don't want to, not by a long shot, but I'm way too stubborn to just.... well, I might not take an active interest in my own well-being, but I don't think I'd take one in my own destruction, either. Any more than I already have, that is. I guess we'll see what tomorrow brings, like always. I'm afraid one day though it's just gonna..... be too much. My brain might just snap under all this and they'll find me locked in the bathroom, drooling and drawing on the walls in crayon. This'd be the only record I ever left behind; how funny is that? The only proof I ever existed would be in here... maybe that would be best.