The consequences of fun; my hopes of an early death

I am no longer plagued by a nagging gremlin of suicide. My efforts on shame, vulnerability, and transition have cured me of that. Now I am learning to live with the where my path has taken me thus far.

The blend of my two lives has left me still hoping for death. However it's settled into some of those sayings about how to live life. "Live as if you'll die tomorrow" crap. I really am pushing myself to complete my bucket list. To follow through on my goals. Because if I am going to die there are things I need to do before then. So I do them.

I swam in the ocean two weeks ago for an experience I will never forget. But now I suffer the consequences. My rib cage has yet to heal and I must accept it may never. But still I go on. I push to have these experience I know will cause me deeper chronic pain. I will not sit idly by away from the life I should have lived only so I may live longer.

There are only so many things one can change about themselves. Easy it is, to fall into a new place. Doubly hard to find your way out of it.

I am a duchess of dark, fleet footed fairy, truth seeker, well of windows, shadow of the moon. These things are what I must be for today. Tomorrow, I can only do so little to try and change or add. I am stuck in these roots with direction as my only the choice of growth.

In these roots there is so much death seeking I cannot leave it. It cannot leave me. I want to get my shit done and die. Life will find a way. Or life will find a way for me to keep living and I will have to keep fighting this fucked up feeling.

If death were ever to come face to face, I hope I sit back and accept it. Fighting it, and winning, would make me feel even more bitter.