Giving up hope.

Wake up in pain. Go to sleep in pain. Try to distract myself during the day.

There is no part of me that thinks I will ever feel better, no small shred of confidence left inside of my entire body. I feel like shit, and I'll forever feel like shit. Trying to convince myself otherwise is impossible and counterintuitive.

Being sick has taken everything from me. Let me break it down for you.

All of my goals, everything I love to do, I am no longer capable of doing. Thruhiking? Ha. Running? No fucking way. Even planning to be outside and away from a bathroom for any amount of time is enough to give me a panic attack. Sure, I can force myself to pursue certain things, I can go on a day hike if I time it just right, I can even push myself some if I'm willing to pay to the price, if I'm willing to suffer later. Exercise of any type is anxiety inducing simply because I know that burning calories means I have to consume more calories later, an activity that only serves to increase my chances of feeling like shit.

My friends, my relationships, have been either destroyed or compromised. I've never felt as alone as I feel at this point in my life. My closest friends, the ones that I still have left, are a thousand or more miles away. But it's not like that matters anyhow, I can't force myself to socialize with anyone, my body hurts too bad and I'm not sure if anyone understands or cares. Not that I expect anyone to be as invested in my own well being as myself. So I've retreated into total isolation. My phone must have realized that because it decided to break itself, and I don't want to get a new one or turn it back on. I've finally deleted all of my social media, removing the last method possible to contact me.

I hate the person I've become, and alienating myself from anyone and everyone is for the best, I promise you. I am not kind, or selfless, or caring, and I can't be made to be. Feeling like shit has robbed me even of this, of my most positive attributes, of feeling empathy. Instead when people show me any kindness, I am annoyed. Talking to people is a frustrating endeavor that I no longer wish to pursue. I can't stand to be asked how I'm doing. What do you want me to fucking say? "Oh ha, I'm doing fine, I mean this is the absolute worst I've ever felt in my entire fucking life and I spend a couple hours every day debating the merits of suicide based entirely on whether or not it would be worth it to at least exercise SOME control over my own life... but other than that I've gotten a lot of reading in lately!"

And what the fuck can I do about any of this? I feel entirely unmotivated to do anything. I've seen no progress, I've made no strides towards feeling better, mentally or physically. I can't even fix my sleep schedule, let alone my body or my mental well being. I have trouble going to sleep before 5 in the morning. I can't force myself to get out of bed before 2 in the afternoon. I have no reason to wake up. Anyone whose ever had this same sleep schedule knows that being alone all night with nothing but your thoughts is torture. A torture so intense that the pain in my stomach pales in comparison. Heck, it's probably jealous.

So yeah, I've given up hope. But that doesn't necessarily mean shit. Hope hasn't ever done anything for anyone. I refuse to be a slave to that sort of irrationality. I know that this is on me. I know that no one is going to make this better, I have to do it myself. It's just hard as fuck. But you know what? Having conviction of any type means jack shit if you can't hold onto it when it stops being easy. I never thought I'd have to deal with this sort of uphill battle in regards to my health, but here I am. So fuck hope, and fuck faith, and fuck the future. All that I have right now is struggle, and so I embrace it like my favorite fucking teddy bear.

Y'all know who the fuck I'm is, I never go back on promises I've made, especially to myself. I think that finishing the Appalachian Trail despite everything, despite collapsing alone in the middle of the woods in the rain, convulsing on my back for hours at a time, unable to get back up because the pain in my stomach is radiating through my entire body, spasming out of control, is a testament to the kind of determination that I have. It's a stubbornness that could very well kill me.

To my loved ones and family, don't worry, this isn't a cry to help, it's just me being brutally honest, as you know I've always been. I'm not stupid enough to take the easy way out, and most definitely, taking my own life is the easy way out. You all know I could never settle for that. Honestly I wish I could stop my parents from reading this entry knowing that it'll cause them a lot of unnecessary worry, but I can't, so just know that I am broken, but not defeated.

All I'm trying to say is that, even when hope is gone, even if you're destined to lose, even if impending doom is inevitable, fighting is always worth it.

So sure, give up hope. But GOD DAMNIT motherfuckers, don't GIVE UP.