I’m not sure, but it feels like I’m once again in that stage the one where I want to say “f*ck it” and throw everything away. Just quit the game without saving.

My hands are down.

F*ck, I’m so tired. Tired of being strong, tired of being the one who always “holds it together”, tired of constantly swimming upstream when all I really want is to lie on my back and float with the current.

But no. Every time it feels like the waves are calming, and I’m finally catching the flow — life throws me another brick right in the face and goes: “Haha, f*ck you.”

Sometimes I’m scared to wake up. Honestly.

Sometimes I just don’t know where to find strength.

I feel like a lost сhild in a giant supermarket of life. Lights buzzing, alarms beeping, that weird plastic smell and I’m just standing there, wide-eyed, not knowing where the hell to go.

Maybe this crаsh happened because I started skipping my antidерressants.

Why? Who the hell knows. Everything just feels too much.

Now I’m deep in some emotional hellhole, f*king smiles and pretending like “this struggle is making me stronger.”

Truth is — I don’t want to leave the house. I don’t want to talk to anyone.

I’m sick of myself, sick of my own face, thoughts, existence. I want to step out of my body, my life, just vanish.

And yeah — sometimes I think, maybe it’s just one step… One step, and that’s it. No more struggling, no more calculating every penny, no more surviving. Just stillness. Quiet. Peace.

I don’t want to be strong anymore.

I just want to live. Peacefully. Without this constant “just hold on a little longer” ringing in my ears.

UPDATE  part:

I saw my doctor yesterday about my jaw (TMJ). We finally finished the diagnostics. On June 13 I’m getting my jaw guard.

I’ll have to wear them for 3 months, and then I’ll be referred to an orthodontist.

But before that? Yep, back to the tоrture chair and that medieval helmet I showed you. That one.

The price tag on staying alive:

Jaw guards – $250

Diagnostics – $800

Braces – $1300

Rent – $650

Taxes – $100

Plus food, cats, internet, phone… you get the idea.

No Instagram. No job. No stability. I’m losing my damn mind. People need to feel safe. Without it, we fall apart. I’m falling.

But there’s a “but”.

When I hit my lowest — I start to create.

I haven’t touched a brush or sat at my art desk  about two months. Nothing made sense. No Instagram, no sales, no motivation. I came up with a thousand reasons not to paint.

Three days ago, I just sat down. Looked at the paints, at my collage magazines, and thought:

“What if I never make anything again?”

“What if my best work is already behind me?”

I opened a magazine and made a small collage.

Then another. And another.

I couldn’t stop. Something cracked open. For three days I’ve been in a creative соma.

I started making my Tarot deck. It’s not finished yet  but it’s being born.

I’ve been making 7–9 collages a day.

I don’t know where the ideas come from or how I have the strength but I’m riding this wave.

While it’s here.