Fear.
I needed to get some things off my chest, If you are reading this you don't have to reply, several things have been bothering me lately and I just need to vent them in a safe way.
At times fear seems to overwhelm and take hold of me. There seems to be no freedom in this world of eternal struggle and strife from fear, except for death. Death is absolute. However, I am not! I am too strong and yet too weak to bring it upon myself. There are times I wish I could summon up the strength to do such a selfish act. To ends one life is a tragedy, a tragedy my life will not allow. Oh, how I've tried! Again and Again! But, yet to no prevail.
I am a waste, I am worthless, I am not what my mother would want me to be, Oh how I could be so loved if I were to have her in my life, these were my reasons for putting an end to myself, but I found them so unsubstantiated that I disregarded them. The thought comes to me that I am so weak not to summon the strength to end my own life is truly pathetic, and yet so beautiful--For my self-hatred to be so strong and for my will to be so dead that I could not do so amazes me.--that there is something inside of me strong enough for me to live. I have come to realize my own personal nirvana, in a way. Death is the freer for those who do not wish to fight, for those too weak to find their own path and illumination. I do not want to be free!
What is in the past is what will remain in the past. The driving chill of past addictions, and the solemn warmth that comes with the healing after, our the motivators that drive me today.
The thing that frightens me to my very soul--If I were to have one.--is the Burning Man that follows me, and torments me in my toughest and most trying moments. That is without the drugs, I'm fearing that I am going mad. I've been three months sober and yet I am still haunted and utterly petrified of that ominous figure. To see a fellow human being burning alive, skin cooking, covered in horrendous burns is truly bone-chilling.
Nothing is more frightening than reality itself, or the lack of. I fear I am suffering from both.
I needed to get some things off my chest, If you are reading this you don't have to reply, several things have been bothering me lately and I just need to vent them in a safe way.
At times fear seems to overwhelm and take hold of me. There seems to be no freedom in this world of eternal struggle and strife from fear, except for death. Death is absolute. However, I am not! I am too strong and yet too weak to bring it upon myself. There are times I wish I could summon up the strength to do such a selfish act. To ends one life is a tragedy, a tragedy my life will not allow. Oh, how I've tried! Again and Again! But, yet to no prevail.
I am a waste, I am worthless, I am not what my mother would want me to be, Oh how I could be so loved if I were to have her in my life, these were my reasons for putting an end to myself, but I found them so unsubstantiated that I disregarded them. The thought comes to me that I am so weak not to summon the strength to end my own life is truly pathetic, and yet so beautiful--For my self-hatred to be so strong and for my will to be so dead that I could not do so amazes me.--that there is something inside of me strong enough for me to live. I have come to realize my own personal nirvana, in a way. Death is the freer for those who do not wish to fight, for those too weak to find their own path and illumination. I do not want to be free!
What is in the past is what will remain in the past. The driving chill of past addictions, and the solemn warmth that comes with the healing after, our the motivators that drive me today.
The thing that frightens me to my very soul--If I were to have one.--is the Burning Man that follows me, and torments me in my toughest and most trying moments. That is without the drugs, I'm fearing that I am going mad. I've been three months sober and yet I am still haunted and utterly petrified of that ominous figure. To see a fellow human being burning alive, skin cooking, covered in horrendous burns is truly bone-chilling.
Nothing is more frightening than reality itself, or the lack of. I fear I am suffering from both.