Inner reflective thoughts of the living dead.

There are nights when I cry myself to sleep, there are also nights when I feel too numb to care that I can’t. Those are the nights I reflect back on and fear the most, knowing that any given moment I could’ve decided to just quit. I could have ended the sleepless, painful, stressed, numbed-out nights but didn’t. To this moment and time I still can’t fathom why I proceed to keep going on. Do I just enjoy the misery and physical pain each drawn-out breath gives me because it is the purest form of self torture that I can bring for myself, or the fact that I might actually be willing to fight when all odds are off the table? I can’t decided.