2024

With 2024 drawing to a close, I find myself surrounded by an overwhelming number of posts celebrating the achievements of others this year. It’s hard not to compare my life to theirs, and I can’t help but to feel disappointed. For me, 2024 has felt like an unrelenting storm. From the sudden loss of my pet rabbit, Charlie, to the decision to put both of my childhood pets to sleep within just a few months of each other. I've faced relationship breakdowns and mental health struggles, including relapses and a silent attempt to escape it all. Doctor's appointments have become a regular part of my life—referrals and trips to A&E—and yet my health keeps declining. I’m trapped in a job that I know isn’t good for my mental or physical wellbeing, forced to stay after receiving a written warning. My studio apartment, which I’ve tried to make feel like home, is really just a cheap and quick place to land, not suitable for my needs. I feel judged by my family for my weight gain, and I dread the thought of Christmas, knowing I’ll feel so different at that table. I haven’t captured any photos or videos of myself this year because I barely recognize the person staring back at me; my illnesses have stolen so much from me. My mum’s optimism—“next year will be better”—is bittersweet, especially since I’ve been holding onto that same hope for so long. New Year’s feels like it’s going to be a lonely ordeal, me just trying to endure it all in my tiny apartment, pleading with my brain to “hold on another year”. I’m utterly exhausted and frustrated, caught in an endless cycle with little support (my own fault because I keep everyone at arms lenth). I wish to just skip forward a few years, to hope that 2026 will be better....

I'm sorry for the long post, I just need to get this off my chest.