Everyone goes through different kinds of pain in their lives.
Everyone has a story to express.
But I have no story.
Perhaps, I do.
But I just don’t know what is my story.
I get lost in my own musings.
And what keeps me alive?
The one I love.
I still feel suicidal at times.
The loudness of those voices in my head,
Every night is a struggle.
Thereupon, I think of you.
I feel better.
The voices stop.
I had no reason to my life.
But I could hear myself internally screaming.
The demon within me.
It reprimands me.
“You are not living for anyone.
You should just not live anymore.”
The constant battle between me and my demon
is getting out of hands day by day.
I am afraid that one day,
My demon might conquer my soul.
What if that day,
The oxygen that I’ve been gasping for
would defunct my breathing forever?
At odd times of the day,
I become breathless.
My heart gets heavy.
Often anxiety attacks.
Waking up to teary-stained pillows.
Some days, I get so dependent on sleeping pills.
I would have cravings for alcohol.
My worst craving: to hurt myself.
It became an addiction.
At this very moment, I’m craving for it.
It just gets tougher.
I thought I’ll overcome this soon.
But it’s never ending..
I do have lifelines to go to for help.
But I just don’t want to disturb anyone.
Different people has different perspectives of advices.
I can’t even help myself.
How would someone help me?
I can’t fix myself.
How would someone fix me?
I get a little satisfaction when I help someone.
It makes me feel that at least
I have the ability to aid someone’s pain.
It is a priceless feeling.
I’m a complicated paradox.