Life is actually infinitely more difficult when you're committed to living. It's so much harder. Everything feels more stuck and annoying and you don't have this secret mental backdoor to rely upon. I know that sounds incredibly fucked up and bad (it is! Def unhealthy!) but now that I want to live, really truly want it, every ache and dysfunction that drove me to die in the first time seems that much heavier because I can't pretend I'm ever going to really escape it.
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