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Day 261

Updated: Jun 26, 2019

There’s a special kind of despair that arises when you see the face of someone you love when they realize how terrible your life is. It is as if my crisis of hope is a terminal illness. By losing my only child, my home, and my family, I’ve lost my future and what’s left is regret, grief, and memories. I only see a sluggish eternity cast over my days.

When I am asked about my life, my throat closes with dread. It is as if life has become a purposeless endeavor.

My friends want me to have a goal that might serve as a guiding lighthouse. They suggest adopting dogs or babies. I explain that I’m not fit for fish, let alone mammals. However, I appreciate their faith in me—no matter how misplaced I think it is.

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Unknown member
Dec 01, 2018

Day 262 is at

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