There Is No Tomorrow.

Question: Are you going to think about what gives you pain tonight?

Let it be known that I’ve been doing some quality self-examination lately so if I come across as a tad philosophical just go with it. Through recent inward reflection I’ve realized how much I dwell in the negative. Thoughts of the girl I can’t have intensifies any existing sadness. Telling myself I can’t drink reinforces the desire. Thoughts of low self-confidence (whispers of “you’ll always be this fatty”) holding me in this self-made prison longer than I need to be.

No wonder there’s so much bloody internal conflict going on inside me. I am not well. If I’m constantly yearning for something I cannot have, to the invitation of tears, what is the point?? Time sincerely and severely wasted is all. If I’m holding a picture of a bag of money in my hand then mourning over it’s emptiness what am I doing to my self-confidence? My self-worth? This incessant self-torture has to end.

Negativity is my poison of choice and if I don’t find another less lethal cocktail I will rot from the inside out. In theory re-training the brain is a simple process. It’s the alleviation of the pre-change that’s the hard part. Change hurts. Change is different. But if I stay the same just one more 24 hour cycle I will kill something and I don’t need it to be myself. A bit much but this is where the level of importance resides. There is no tomorrow.

During sleep our bodies repair and recover. This period of time is essentially more important than the other 16-18 hours we are awake. That being said.. why does it feel like I have been asleep 24/7 for years? Auto-pilot zombie mode deactivate, thanks. I beat myself into a bloody pulp day in, day out and without reprieve. Like an animal bleeding out, this has to stop.

Tonight things will change. Triggered thoughts will be replaced by warm reminders that all is well. “I can’t” will be flipped to “I can have this instead”. The internal bruising will cease and the healing will begin. The yearned for will become the forgotten. And as the proper balance returns to this tattered, trembling unit, the stars will align and the unicorns will ride again. Or something like this.

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