Not Working

Every time I do something, it ends up being a mistake. Nothing works anymore. And I'm tired of it. I try to deal with it, accept it, and work around it. But I think there has to be a limit to just how much more of this I can really take. I don't know where that limit is, and I know that I haven't reached it yet, but I feel like I'm getting steadily closer and closer.

Last year, one of my exes (not the most recent one) said,
What happens, happens. A lot, but not all, of the things that happen seem to happen for a reason; maybe they do, maybe they don't. When you sit back and you're watching your life unfold before you, things happen as a result of the choices you make and the things that you do, but more importantly, things happen as a result of the choices others make and the things that others do. You can't separate the two, and you can't change what happens. If this is true, it doesn't give you any more or less responsibility than if it weren't; it's still your life, and the things others do are merely influences on your life, not any more.

I can't help but remember that right now. I don't have control over what happens to me, but I do have control over how I react to it. That doesn't mean that I'm not tired of reacting to it appropriately, in a reasonable fashion. But it is true. All I can do is make the most of the way things are handed to me--whether that is whole and completely functioning or entirely cracked and disarrayed.

I'm not even sure where I stand. A lot of the things going on around me seem to be going too quickly and I'm afraid of losing track of my life. It appears as though things have stopped working and everything is about to fall apart, but I can't even find a crack to start fixing right now. It's this dread sensation that if I slip up even once, everything will crash down on top of me. And me being where I am, I really can't afford to miss a step at risk of crashing down and breaking every bone in my body.