"And then, something happened."

I let go. Lost in oblivion. Dark and silent and complete. I found freedom. Losing all hope was freedom.

With things to look forward too, plans to keep my mind briefly occupied, I've spent the last few days successfully avoiding what I fear the most. But it seems that holding onto hope is only setting myself up for disappointment. Hope is temporary happiness.

In hoping for a rainy day, the clouds separated revealing a shimmering sun. Beautiful really. But to think something so... unofficial, can save your life is a bit of a stretch. Building an unstable confidence that will eventually bring you back down from that man-made pedestal.

A dark, empty house all to myself, I twirl the melting ice cubes of my third drink around the glass, wondering how I always get myself into these things. Wondering if it's worth this bi-polar inducing torment. But what I realized is, so what? This is all I got. And it isn't really the act of hoping in itself, but my knack for making a bigger deal out of what I am hoping for.

I just need to let go.