What are thoughts anyway?

Moving on

How much can someone move on from? How often can you walk away from a car crash until you need to be pulled out? Regardless of in a gurney or a bodybag. How much can you take? Recently I've been taking blow after blow. I try and I try to move on but my legs just won't move.
Luckily, I'm only being dragged out by a gurney than a bodybag.
That doesn't make things easier. I'd rather the bodybag most times.
Yet, here I am. Couple years later, a new man you could say. No longer blinded by the pleasantries of another. No longer pretending to be someone I'm not. Although, who am I, really? I'm not sure if I'd ever be able to answer that question. I think if I really thought about it about a year ago I'd cry. Cause who was I? I was no one, an accessory. Kinda wish they did cause maybe it would've snapped me out of it.
Anyway.
How do you move on? How do you tell if you have? Have I moved on? I still hurt, I'm still angry. But I'm healing. Is the process itself moving on? Am I moving on as I'm carried to the ambulance and they pick bits of debris and glass out of my skin? Or does it only count once I'm healed and the bandages and casts can all come off? I don't know. I'm not sure if I care to.
I know I'm a jerk, petty, bitter, angry, upset, sad, distraught.. but I'm kinda getting better? If that means anything. I'm trying, at least. I'm scared to talk to my friends. They think all I feel is irrational. Out of proportion. And I shouldn't expect them to understand, but I at least expected a bit more empathy before I started being an asshole. I deflected with jokes that went to far because I wasn't able to tell they were going too far. Because I knew if I was real with them about how I was feeling, rather than aggressively showing something else, they'd be fed up too.
Now I'm just rambling
Then again that's what this book is for
It's not even really what I wanted to talk about.
Anyway, I'm exhausted. But just right now but in general. I'm tired of feeling tired, and sad, and angry, and used, like I wasted my time, energy, thoughts, and every other little thing I gave away. My dignity. My morals. My personality. My body..
I guess there's nothing that can happen now. I'm just so tired all the time. Sleep is a better release than the waking world however. A warm dark embrace.
I should do that soon.
I don't even remember what this was meant to be about in the first place.
And now I don't really care. so much so I'm not proof reading. I may come back to ramble in the future, but I doubt it. Pencil and paper is better for venting to me.