Losing game, losing face.

2015, you've burnt me from the very beginning, how very kind of you. I want you to know that it doesn't matter. You always win, anyway.

I'm at the same point in life as I was a few years ago, and a couple of years before that. And I'm a lot older, but sadly none the wiser. I always thought I was not a gambler, that my life risk taking aversion will help me in the end, help me make the right choices. As it turns out, although I never learn, I mostly go for the gamble. Gambling is such a nasty addiction - you do it again and again and again, even though your voice of reason is screaming at you 'Don't do it! Don't do it! You'll regret it!'.

My head did scream at me, almost three years ago. It has been screaming at me every day ever since, but I've managed to silence the little voice to a point that I convinced myself it wasn't there anymore. I thought I won. I felt on top of the world for a long time, albeit for such a small (and as it happens, fake) victory.

But it's all my fault. Who can I blame for me having lied to myself for all this time? I can only point to the reflection in the mirror. I wanted to lie, to make it true, to make it pretty and perfect. But the gamble is never true, never pretty, never perfect. It's dirty, nasty, a vicious circle you only manage to break free of when you've hit rock bottom.

I'm not quite there yet, but I can feel it coming. I'll be hitting that rock soon enough and once again, having to pick myself up. It's funny, I recognise all the signs, yet the addiction is still keeping me in my cozy circle. So I've no one to blame. Even when I will hit rock bottom and ascension will begin again, I'll still be the only one at fault. Irrationally, I blame her. Every day, I blame her. In my head, I scream at her that it's all her fault I'm once again broken and in pieces, but on second thought, it's me. I let her get to me, she slowly broke down all my carefully built walls, let the sun shine in once again... And then she turned away and it's dark again.

No light at the end of the tunnel. Not yet, it's too soon. For now, all I have is a terrifyingly long walk, fumbling along a wall of memories in complete darkness. Adjusting to darkness is the worst part, I know. Once your eyes are alright in the dark, light emerges. And that will happen, light comes after dark just like a neat conveyor belt. This is not the end.

This is just one end. Feels remarkably like all the rest, although I'm sure it's one of those gets-worse-before-it's-better ends. The year is just beginning. Maybe it's all uphill from now on.

... I can lie to myself a little while longer, I guess.
Life, you win again. Check mate.