There is the age-old adage about life being too short for x, where x is some compromise, or unfelicitous action, or undesirable attitude. I wonder if the length of the life in question is the average human life expectancy, or if the length is as variable as each individual is, in which case the premise of the adage is a mockery. I don't know why I expect truth in idioms.
I can't shake the feeling that I don't have much time left. The years have left their mark. I'm tired of restraining my impulses, although I'm still fully capable of doing it. All I can hope is to distract myself from the sinking feeling, and the fear of being swallowed whole by the void. Every moment distracted is another moment I am alive. And at this point, it is another moment closer to when these drugs will work. If there will be such a moment.
I like Scrabble. There is something comforting about scanning for the optimal play in a game with so many restrictions. It eliminates some of the uncertainty that is inherent to life. You play with the hand you are dealt with, within certain universal constraints. Plays are not acataleptic in the way that humans are. All you need to do is to respond to the plays of your opponent, under these universal constraints. Humans don't work that way. People restrict themselves in different ways, at different times, with different strengths. Even the social structure that arises from a group is not enough. You do not lose by default if you do not subscribe to them. And even without this problem, reality still has too many variables.
I wonder how well I can play with my hand. It's a bad hand, but I am not a weak player. Sometimes the feeling is overwhelming, the challenges that I perceive to be insurmountable by myself. Rationally, there are none.
I am not a perfectly rational being.
I wonder if I am buying into the gambler's fallacy, or if my outlook is clouded by my depression. Come to think of it, there's no reason why it couldn't be both. It doesn't matter how much I intellectualise all of this. The truth is that I want to die, but I can't, and I won't. The rational reasons for why I should not is one of them, but I also made a promise not to.
That is my restriction. To keep playing. And in a way, I like restrictions.
I am not counting down to the day I die. I am counting the days that I stay alive. Not subtractive, but additive.