adrian navarre. d4. resub.

It's been a while since I've written in this thing.

I just... haven't been feeling the motivation to write. Since the first time since she died, things were finally starting to look up. Things were getting better between Dad and I. I went to her grave and I did it, I came out to her. Even if she wasn't actually there. I still... I did it. But, it was all for nothing. Because that night, he cheated on me. And Dad found out.

That strained things between Dad and I more than ever. I felt like if Mom was still here she would've been able to talk some sense into him. But he didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to hear my excuses. I wish I could have told him myself, maybe I could have gotten him to understand. But now it's too late and none of the what ifs even matter anymore.

I've been a bit of a dick lately, I know I have. I've been ignoring Zedekiah, I pretended I didn't know Frost the other day. I'm just being drowned by the sea, and I'm too scared I'll just pull the two of them down with me. I've been drowning for years now - ever since she died. I'm used to the feeling of the salt water burning my lungs. But they aren't, I don't want them to be.

I saw Killua the other day. We were at a bonfire. I just wanted to check on him, try to pull him onto shore. But all that resulted in was him attaching an anchor to my ankle. Further and further down into the murky depths I sink. Whenever I think I've hit the bottom, I only go lower. At this point I don't even think I remember what it feels like to breathe. I see the light shining down from the surface, but it's dwindling.

I need someone to pull me back up, but I'm so scared they'll just be pulled further down with me.

The doctors say it's getting worse. They worry about my training being too hard on it. Dad said it was my decision, but we both knew there wasn't a real choice. I only have two more years of being a career left regardless. Might as well push through. Let's just see what gives up on living first, me or my heart. They said they might have to put in an ICD, whatever that is. As long as I can keep training, as long as I can keep Dad proud, I don't care what they have to do. They can do a transplant for all I care.

Zedekiah still don't know. Killua and Frost don't know how bad it is. I don't want them to see me differently. I don't want them to think I'm weak. Dad and I have been looking into the surgery to get that device, but we're worried it'll be considered too much of a risk for training and they'll ban me from training. I've put way too much time and energy into being a career to stop now. It's all I've ever know.

The closer I get to being too old to be in the Games, the worse my panic attacks have been getting. What am I going to do once I hit 19? Will I even live that long? I know the answer Dad wants, he wants me to follow in his footsteps, train the next generation of careers. I know what I want. I want to be an artist, maybe even open up an art gallery. Maybe get a dog or a cat. And I can't tell if the pain in my chest is from my heart or from the knowledge I'll never be what he wants me to be at this point.

I just feel stuck. I know how that sounds. Rich career kid doesn't like his life, boo fucking hoo. But that's why it's a good thing no one will ever read this except me, myself, and I. I've been trying to be more helpful towards people recently, even if I can't quite help myself. After all, that's how Zedekiah and I became friends. Frost and I met when I saved me from drowning - literally, not all of these bullshit metaphors I've been writing.

But I've been wondering lately what the point is. Does it matter if I help people if I can't even save myself? If I can't stand up for myself enough to say I need to stop being a career in order to save my own life? Or do I just keep waiting for the day it gives out? I just don't know anymore. I wish everything made sense like it used to.

And I drown, further and further down.