Since 2011 I have experienced multiple traumatic life events, all with varying levels of PTSD. With each year and with each instance of trauma I had hoped that the mind would grow to adapt faster and stronger. Visions of myself as a strong man parting seas with the staff of hope and resilience are not new.

Alas, I am but a little boy walking in a storm, searching through pouring tears for my mother and father, who promised to be there but are not.

But then again, time goes on. I get attached to things and people in a manner yet unbeknownst to me. Like preheating an oven, the actual process of pre-attachment is longer and more drawn-out than the attachment itself (cooking).

Among my new motifs is an incomprehensible way of things. I can't comprehend it, and what I cannot understand brings me great agony, unlike the agony of grief, which is a different kind of dull, throbbing pain. The pain of incomprehension is sharp, like a fire poker to the chest, over and over again.

This way exists, and it just is there, and I can do nothing to change the way, since it is not my way to change, but of someone I'm close to. The agony grows manifold, and yet, I dance.

In due time the life I have built from the ground up will look me in the eye and crumble into fine dust, and I will be left with nothing but the memories of the near and distant past.

An incredible sadness swims within me, and I am not sure I'm equipped to swim with it. I am not sure I'm equipped to swim at all. It's all so very heavy.

I got to watch Interstellar again, and I cried at all the ship detach scenes. How cruel. How cruel, to be so attached to a ship, to a person, to a place, to a time, to a memory, to a feeling, to a thought, to a dream, to a hope, to a wish, to a desire, to a fear, to a love, to a hate, to a life, to a death. They should invent a human condition that isn't filled with suffering and joy. Sometimes that joy is not worth the suffering.

I just want to sleep.