Everyday, it's "I can't go through with this again." But still I go through with it, and approximately 18 hours later, the day ends. The following day, it happens all over again. For half my life, waking up's been more or less like this, it really is a wonder how I am still able to walk, let alone breathe.
The times in between get me through, to be fair. A night of drinking with friends, a good book, and I say, "OK, I can get past this." And not even half a day passes, I'm on board the downward spiral yet again.
Maybe I'm not exerting enough effort to make my life better, and having been found lacking, the Universe throws me what I deserve? What am I missing? What am I doing wrong? What else do I need to do?
I shouldn't be surprised, I suppose. Considering every lie that I've told others, told myself as I was growing up, every sin I'd committed -- maybe this is the life I deserve. Balance, the Universe says. I've been able to get away with a lot of things when I was younger, and now it's time I pay my dues.
Tomorrow at 3:00am, I wake up. "I can't go through with this again," I'd say. And still I'd go through with it. I don't want to believe in Hell, but 18 years of Catholicism has fear beaten good and deep into me. Now I'm afraid of myself, of how I'd turn out, of where I'd go when I die. I don't want to believe in Hell, but if what they say is true -- if Hell is much worse than the life I'm going through now -- then every inch of me is a quivering concentration of nothing else but fear.
