You're drifting and failing, trying desperately to reach out and grasp any kind of feeling like you used to have. The pressure's been building up and your resolve just gets weaker - putting up a feeble attempt to attain all those great things you once saw for yourself.
Should you give up and admit defeat or fight for one more chance? Is it better to move or on or is it worth what you always hoped for?
The broad strokes you've always used seem to constantly leave you unsatisfied but you never managed to break out of your old habits. You promised yourself a thousand times you would try something new, something different but here you are once again, drowning in the same cesspool of despair, of self fucking hatred.