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——

It hits me:

My biggest enemy is myself.

The monster calling the shots?

She’s the old version of me—

The one who knows nothing but survival.

Chaos is her comfort.

Pain is familiar.

And that’s the thing about familiarity—

Even when it hurts, it feels safer than the unknown.

So when something good finally happens,

I don’t celebrate.

I brace for impact.

——

Self-sabotage.

My most glaring flaw.

I let people into my life who don’t deserve the roles I give them.

And when they fail me, when they hurt me—

It’s almost comforting.

Because at least I saw it coming.

Familiar pain feels safer than hope.

——

Then there’s him.

The “partner” who twists reality like it’s origami.

Who makes me question my own sanity.

Who contradicts himself so seamlessly I wonder if I’m the one making it up.

And when I question the absurdity?

I become the problem.

Every time I try to fix things,

He finds a way to unravel it.

Plays the “oops, my bad” card like it’s a get-out-of-jail-free pass.

But when mistakes become patterns,

They’re no longer mistakes.

They’re choices.

——-

God, I hate that I hate life right now.

I want to ride a rocket ship into the sunset—

To soar into growth and peace.

But my rocket?

It keeps blowing up before Houston even counts down to one.

There’s an entire universe out there.

So much untouched potential.

And I’m stuck.

Trapped in a glass box—

Head pressed against the surface,

Eyes locked on the beauty just beyond reach.

I can see it.

But I can’t touch it.

——-

Sometimes I wonder if I’m living in a tragic comedy.

Laughing through pain.

Crying at punchlines I don’t understand.

Comedy and tragedy—

So intertwined they’ve become my reality.

——

I don’t want to be here anymore.

Not in this cycle.

Not in this act of the play.

I want to close the curtains on trauma and drama.

On toxicity and ignorance.

I want to grow up and show up.

Look in the mirror and not flinch at my own reflection.

Stare into the eyes of the woman looking back and say:

“You’re okay, kid.”

I want to help others through their struggles

Without drowning in my own.

I want to go on a date.

A real date.

Six years.

Six years of feeling like a shadow.

Of dinners that feel like obligations,

Moments that feel like empty placeholders for connection that never comes.

Even the few fleeting touches feel lonely.

Even the sex feels lonely.

——-

The world is vast.

Expansive.

Full of possibility.

And I’m stuck in place.

Watching life like it’s a movie I’m not part of.

Waiting for a hero to smash the glass—

Or for a hammer to magically be in my own hands.

Trying to change feels like fighting a battle with no weapons.

Like digging with bare hands through concrete.

——-

I just want security.

In my relationship.

In my parenting.

In my career.

In myself.

I want to stop surviving and start living.

And maybe—just maybe—

I’m ready to find that hammer.

Even if I have to forge it myself.