It's August

 It's August. The year feels like it's being swallowed. Or sucked down some plughole I can't seal up so that I can just take a fucking breath. Can't I just take a breath? Please. December feels so fresh in my memory.

With everything thrown in the air. Everything just out of reach. Plates spinning. Everything. Everything on the brink of loss. Sinking in grief. Imploding, set alight. What other cliched metaphors for all this shit can I use? 

January. February. Fuck February. 

How do I make decisions? How do I feel safe, alive, unselfish for being alive? 

Outside my own head, my own life. The world is a fucking shit show too. So where do I think I am going and for what? As everywhere either burns or sinks or gets eaten up by war or poverty or some other human bullshit. 

What do I do? I'm so fucking tired. And I just don't care.