Day 122— There Is No Silence, Only Echoes
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I woke up today realizing just how far I’ve come—and how far I still need to go. Between the memory of the wall I jumped from and the couch where I was once trapped, my mind replays an endless loop of “what ifs.” It’s like there’s no true silence, only echoes of moments I’m still not sure I can trust.
Sometimes I find myself standing at a crossroads: one path tethered to my reality, the other lost in bargaining with what might have been. Neither of us—Hope nor I—saw the storms that were headed our way. No one could’ve known isolation would shatter me so completely, or how deeply alcohol had dug its claws into my life.
When that isolation hit, I clung to Hope like a runaway roller coaster’s safety bar, gripping tighter each time the drops got steeper. My mind fractured in that RV. Even now that I’m out, I still wrestle with the war inside my head, torn between letting go or holding on—unsure which one is betrayal, and which one is survival.
Some days, I wonder if I’m going insane. Other days, I feel the progress: I’m learning to do things for myself, not just to fix what’s broken with Hope. That love I feel might last forever, but the grip is loosening. And that’s okay. Each step forward is a step closer to reclaiming who I am, beyond heartbreak, beyond addiction, beyond the echo of those cramped walls.
I’m proud that I’m still here, even if the path has been longer and darker than I ever imagined. Hope or no hope, I’m fighting for a better version of me. If my mind still echoes with confusion, maybe that just means I’m alive—still learning, still healing, still moving forward one breath at a time.
“Not all walls are made of concrete. Sometimes, they’re built from memories and what-ifs.”
Day 122
One Step. One Punch. One Round. 🌹
—Your Fellow Traveler