I don't know when I got bitter.

I'm not really sure what it is I'm writing about right now. All I know is that I need to write. I'm stuck in the same rut I'm always stuck in, and writing seems to be all I have left to me in some ways. Either writing or drowning myself in distraction, some halfhearted way of surviving myself until I can stumble into the same mistake again. That's what I normally do, and I'm sure I'll do it again anyway. But who knows, perhaps I'll remember this, at least perhaps I'll remember it more than I remember it when I tell myself never again. And maybe that's a sign. I keep making the same mistake, and keep paying for it. Is it just masochism? I would call it fate, but it is things like this that make me fight so hard to know that there is no fate. Because I wish nothing more than to escape it if it means repeating these foolish mistakes so many times. But then why? I suppose it could just be without reason, that my mistakes are entirely my own, with no purpose behind them. But somehow that doesn't seem to be right. If I'm supposed to learn a lesson, though, this is not the easiest way to do it. Because throwing myself at the same situation, time and time again, that is clearly not working.

What could I be meant to learn here? Humility? That would be an interesting choice. That I am not in control of that which is most important to me, despite whatever I do. Perhaps it is supposed to be the value of accepting where you are over where you want to be. But these are both things I know. Perhaps not always act on, perhaps not always live, but they're things I know. Perhaps it's the opposite, though. Perhaps the lesson is supposed to be to take more pride in myself, to trust myself more, to act more and take control instead of leaving things to chance. But even so, the path has only ever been made clear enough to walk down once its door has been closed. Even when I stop and think, I never seem to notice that I want something until it is gone, and that desire consumes me until I am made aware of the next thing that I cannot have. In a sense, that by itself is what makes the whole problem. But when the problem is that I can't see, what can I do? I do what I can to leave my eyes open, but there is only so much that will do. I have been told to go and seek out instead of waiting to find, but that holds its own troubles. To seek out implies that I know what I want already. The solution to the problem is to solve the problem. This obviously doesn't work.

So what am I to do? Cast out nets on all sides, to try everything and see what sticks? But in a way, that's why I'm where I am now. I've cast out lines, and each bite I get has already been hooked by someone else. But that makes me wonder. Why is it that I should settle for letting someone else catch my fish, to run with the metaphor. The door has been closed, hasn't it? It feels like the only option left is to just give up. But there's always an option. There's always a choice. It may not be a choice that matters, but it is still a choice, isn't it? It may be a hard one, and it may not pay off, though. Give up. If not give up, continue fighting. If not continue fighting, then letting go. Giving up and letting go. So similar, but letting go is so much worse. To excise the problem entirely instead of trying to continue living with what is, in one way or another, failure. But both of these aren't options I much like. I'm stubborn. I'm a fighter in that way. But fighting is tiring, especially when no progress seems to be made. We all need a place to lay our head down, a place to rest. "I hit the ground and I'm still running, but I need a place to stay tonight. I swear I'll be gone in the morning, I just need somewhere warm to close my eyes." This, of course, has its own risks though. When what we want is a place to rest, and this is where we are being forced to either give up, let go, or continue fighting, what can we really do? This is where failure can break us. Do we have the strength to keep going? This is the true test of life. And I think this is where I was meant to come to. When all you want is the comfort of safety, when you run dry on places to find it, what do you do?