Running in this nightmare of life. Is this Reality? Is there really a reason to be alive; to go through all this suffering? I like that I become stronger when I overcome these herculean feats. But at the same time, each trial crumbles me so humbly. I disgust myself at my undignified self. Groveling on the ground begging the Gods for mercy despite the promise to stay strong and steadfast. Indomitable, hah! The irony is so not funny, as I am filled with aversion. I could be a hero, save lives including my own soul. So why, I scream, "Why am I not awesome, why am I not a being that causes this very world to tremble under my confidence, strength, and justice". I breathe in, Patience. I must not succumb to these pained voices. These aren't what I am. There are people screaming in despair, anger, pain, even dread inside me, I know they are my past selves. My body is as if it's an unholy prison, preventing an onslaught of poison out into this world. A pandora's box, where even hope has no place. I try with all my might to work through it, but the depth is unimaginable. Endless. A punishment for my sin of existing. My very existence isn't a celebration, but a reminder, that I am unwelcome. The world around me experiences strife and tragedy, yet I am unable to do anything about it. My own mind and body is a war torn battlefield. Unstable. How can I benefit this world with what I have. What do I have to offer. Breathe, I am mending myself. If I can't be a helpful citizen, I can atleast start with a kindness to myself. Slowly remove these tight vines that grip me in painful grief and guilt. If I must be a monster, let me will myself into one that can kill my inner demons.
© Melika.Dream