I feel like the guy who, after years of zero contact, shows up at his ex girlfriend's house at 3 in the morning asking for a second/third/fourth chance. Unkempt, face aged with sadness, maybe with a little alcohol on his breath.
Since my last post life has been... interesting. I found a home, a family within the community of dodgeballers and- after a while- a steady job. I didn't lose any more weight, but I plateaued like a badass. I was riding high!
Then, after a few unsuccessful ventures in the dating world, car issues when driving is a necessity to my profession, and other issues piling on top of the lingering stress from being mostly unemployed for quite some time, I (for the first time in my life) plunged into an actual depression (more on that later). And with my world shattered and completely flipped upside down, I turned to my old vices. To the tune of at least 80+ pounds over the course of the past year. To be honest, I'm still reeling. The amount of lost that I am is, at times, dizzying. But I'm really trying to turn this boat around, and part of my previous success was writing. It's therapeutic.
Here I am.
On the doorstep.
Asking for another chance.
I can change. I've got a new job and I am a better person since we last met.
Can we make this work?
(I know things will be different if I can just get another chance)