Hopelessly Frozen

There are days when the only thing I feel is this quiet panic that maybe nothing in me is ever going to change.

That maybe this is all my life ever becomes, me trying to convince myself I’m a decent human being, trying to gather enough evidence to believe I’m not a lost cause. I hate how dramatic that sounds, but it still feels true in my body.

Because what if I never get better?

What if I never feel a pull toward anything?

What if I always want more but never move?

There’s this version of stuckness I don’t know how to explain to people. It isn’t laziness. It isn’t a lack of desire. It’s like the engine inside me hasn’t turned over in years. I want to live, I want to change things, but there’s this invisible freeze that keeps my body from following the want.

And when I’m in this space, it feels like hope belongs to other people. Like I’ve wandered too far past the point where things can still shift. I don’t feel alive most days… I feel like someone who is watching life through fogged-up glass, too far away to touch it.

I don’t know if this will change.

I’m scared it won’t.

I’m scared that this numb, heavy version of me is the only one I’ll ever be. I’m scared I’ll always feel alone.

I’m tired of trying. I’m tired of having to live with the past I don’t want.