I realized that there is only so much that I can do at this point.

Looking to the future at the end of my life (as I knew it)

I’ve resigned myself.

The only future I can be certain about is the one that is certain. And right now, nothing is certain.

I’m giving myself space to accept what is at this moment, because it means that I am no longer working toward what may not be. For me, it means accepting what is, and no longer expecting anything of the future.

As odd as it sounds, this feeling encapsulates a uniquely beautiful feeling — one that provides a lens into the vast emptiness of possibility. I’ve made my choice. There’s no turning back, only being present as I moved forward into the next day, week, and month. Time slips between my fingers and I press on to live another day.

At least my mental health isn’t terrible.

I can remember a time when I struggled with severe mental illness just a year and a half ago. I was hearing voices, and I thought I was an alien brought in from space to Area 51. I thought the government was after me. The paranoia quite literally drove me to near-insanity. I couldn’t sleep at night. I was on antipsychotics. At least I don’t need any of that now. That…