passing thought

what are we even scared of? that something will happen, or that nothing will? i don’t know. right now life feels heavy. too heavy. every day is like carrying stones i can’t see. i don’t want to die. i don’t really want to live either. but i keep moving. i keep trying. i want to make peace with myself. i want to fix things, but i’m scared. scared that when i do, i’ll just get tired. scared that even the thing i work for will feel empty. it’s always this or that, isn’t it? like life is made of edges that cut both ways. but maybe it’s not really a choice. maybe it’s both, all at once. maybe the fear is not about what comes, but about how little control we have. maybe part of life is just… sitting with it, feeling the weight, breathing anyway. and maybe that’s enough. or maybe not. i wish it made sense. i wish i could make it make sense.