And Nine…
Six years ago I was saying that, unless a miracle will happen, the three years that had passed until then will turn into six, or nine, or 30. I guess that makes tonight another step, because it is now nine years since she left and I’m still here, with the same hopes and dreams and needs if I’m to once again see any point in anything, the only thing different being that it’s even harder to hold on to that tiny shred of however false hope or even believe that any of it was real.
At least I finally managed to post the statistics, so that’s out of the way and I don’t have to think about something else to write over the weekend, and there’s nothing else planned these days either, so I don’t have to force myself to go out or see people for this or that cause either. I did go out Thursday and there’s quite a story about that, but I’m not going to add it here and mix things up yet again. If it’ll still be on my mind, I guess I’ll start next week with it, meaning that I will end up having four personal posts in a row, like I was saying.
But that’s enough for now. Can barely seem to manage to add anything in my story anymore and sitting here feeling sorry for myself in writing at a time when I should at least be trying to work on that won’t help. Last night I didn’t even manage to get 100 words in and, of course, even what little I did add is pointless, so I just keep wondering how long till I’ll stop being so stubborn over it and give up completely… Not that I haven’t been wondering this pretty much ever since I started, but this is particularly bad.
