Watching through my fingers...

I'm not sure what I'm doing anymore. I try to gather my thoughts into a cohesive collection of guidelines I could learn from and navigate my future with, but I can't seem to focus. It all seems like this blur that's happening to someone else, and I am merely the spectator. Nothing is really wrong, but also nothing seems to be quite right. I feel like I'm floating somewhere between the clouds and the moon, directly in the middle of both gravitational pulls, waiting to be sucked towards one end or the other. I am changing, that much is for certain.

I've never been lonely. I've been in a room, I've felt suicidal, I've been depressed, I've felt awful - awful beyond all - but I never felt that one other person could enter that room and cure what was bothering me or that any number of people could enter that room and suddenly make me feel better. In other words, loneliness is something I've never been bothered with because I've always had this terrible itch for solitude. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I am still here, and I have not given up on myself. I don't care if I stay up late at night thinking of the life I could have had; as long as I wake up to a brand new day, I know that I'll be just fine. And if I sense that I need to run towards my past addictions to ease the pain, I do so without being too harsh on myself. Because I will cultivate my thoughts until the day I die. I am stronger than depression and I am braver than loneliness and nothing will ever exhaust me.