It's been a rough week.
Perhaps it was the congenital dread tied to the commencement of a new week. Sunday nights are a very dangerous time. The following two days were in similar pursuit: my mind trying to wrestle and take me down. It succeeded, for one.
What sparked it all: an unfortunate moment of realization.
I don't know if it's the late nights that imbue me with an incurable plague of sadness. I don't know if there's genuinely something wrong with me. I don't know if it's me at all, repeatedly nursing and gashing these wounds. I don't know a lot, and I am trying my best to find the answers for myself.
Then it hit me. All the things I thought were a part of me were perhaps a separate entity on their own; the part of me that tried to tear me down was doing no good for me. I needed to peel those parasitic layers away, because the feeling was multiplying - and I, in turn, was becoming the host for its torment. Yet it was hard to distinguish when it was eroding me.
I've worked out the triggers: the sensing of unresolved issues, noise, idleness, obligation, school... I know, they aren't the cause. They drive things into worse ground but they are not responsible for my hardship. It's all on me. I'm responsible.
I know I have a support system when I need it, an excellent one at that - yet the
There's a lot that I wanted to let out on those nights. I had it all written up, sitting obediently in my drafts. Does it really have to be said? I question myself every time I spill.
But for the purpose of this being one of my safe havens, I want to share my lowest point. I know I am not alone, no matter how much my brain convinces me during those times. In revealing the weakest side of me, I urge those suffering to seek help.
I'd been afraid of what was always wrong in me. It was a manifested web I'd fallen victim to. I'd become oddly comfortable with it. Maybe if it eats me, sure death will be near. It will all end. I'd foolishly allowed it to consume me. I'd declared myself prey. Not anymore.
(It's funny. People are more alike than I think - especially those closest to me, whom I'd never suspected would feel the same. It's hit me with blinding astonishment, and startled me in ways. I'd begun to feel ashamed. I'd begun to feel more clarity. I'd begun to feel like it wasn't the end, for the first time. Letting it out was what I needed all this while.)
Now, onto the next step: to get back on track.
Time to fix myself, to take the determined road to recovery.