The thing that I can't seem to get to stick in my head is that there's nothing I can do.
I didn't do enough before. No matter how hard that is for me to accept. Even though I did so much, more than I'd have thought possible and more than most people would have done, I simply didn't do enough to be good enough.
During, I did too much. I was honest and forthcoming. Too much of each, because I was also hurting. In shock by the suddenness and the brutality of what was happening. I should have taken the time to let things digest. But, I didn't. I screwed up and I let my emotions take over. Oops, right?
And after? After, I don't know what's been going on. I've either been doing too much or too little or the exact right amount, but it doesn't matter, because it's been out of my hands, and it's still out of my hands, and I wish I could accept that fact instead of forgetting it every 10 seconds. Instead of always trying to do something, anything at all, to fix this.
I'm doing it right now, with this entry. Trying to fix things.
Wasting my time, some would say.
Standing my ground, others might counter.
I get so damn impatient sometimes. You'd really think, after all these years, that patience would be something I'd be really good at.
You'd be wrong.