For the last two years, I spit and cursed and fought. For two years, I dragged myself off the ground no matter what humiliations and anxieties the universe heaped on me. And then, this morning in fact, I simply didn't have the strength anymore. It made no sense to fight. Instead, I needed to revert my energy into understanding my place in this world. That'd be easier for me. The pain and regret wouldn't stop; no, that would be far too easy. But maybe accepting that I won't get it, despite deserving it, would make it easier to bear. I think I could live with that, not that I have any other choice.
