This is Never Over

Everything's withering; dying. And I'm terrified. I tell myself that this winter- this winter will be different. I'm going to be better in so many ways. That's what I tell myself, at least. If I were to pray, I would pray for that. The road to recovery is bumpy. There are potholes that throw me off into the muddy ditches of failure. From there, I have to pick myself up and say that it's alright, and climb back onto the road.
I carry my pain with me. To some it, may seem minimal, and perhaps these things that I cannot allow to slip through my fingers are, but in my eyes they will never be.
They say that pain fades, and in a sense, yes it does, but it leaves behind something even worse. That is fear.I have a fear of what I could become if I allowed myself. I know that it will very slowly eat away at everything I've ever been. It will destroy me. God, for the sake of those that love me I cannot let it happen! I must be strong this time, not for myself, but for my family, my friends, for those I love.
I'm getting better, and I hope. I believe that's why I sit here now, writing in a place I swore to never write again. It's not as though I woke one day to discover I love. No, I learned it, and it learned me. There is this unexplainable connection that we humans allow ourselves to feel. Since the dawn of time it's been such a fascinating subject to almost all. I cannot say I feel any different than those, because I feel it too. It's not incredibly clear why I feel the need to say that, but I do.