Metamorphosis

There are moments when you think that you have so many friends, your parents, siblings—everyone, even the world—on your side.

You feel invincible. Nothing can touch you.

But there are other moments—which comprise of basically most of your life—when your delusions come crashing down on you.

You realize that your delusions are just delusions, you are alone and that the universe is just your enemy. Your worst enemy. Your arch-nemesis.

You, too, are your worst enemy.

You, along with every force in the universe, will try to drag yourself to the very pits of hell and make sure you never return.

But you are strong.

You will fight back, you will look for an escape. Eventually you will find something. You will take even a length of thread if it means you can escape and retaliate. You can do it; you know so. After all, you are strong.

...Right?

There will be a time when you will feel your strength fade away, seemingly never to return again. Then reality unravels in front of you.

You realize you never really escaped. It was all, in one word, fake. An illusion.

Then you hear the mocking laughter.

You shrink, you cower away. All on the inside.

Outside, though, you live as normally as you can. Your smiles are fake, which people would have understood if your façade had not been so perfect. So flawless. You tell people that you're "fine".

Are you, truly?

Absolutely not.

In your mind, you see the hateful people and the feeling of self-loathing that you had when those condescending looks were sent your way. Everyone looks the same: evil, cruel. You feel as though everyone wears a mask.

You have always been reticent.

You fall into the pits of hell all over again. The fire is relentless as it burns you. You feel the searing pain; you feel it all as the hellfire reduces you to ashes—your legs, arms, body...and the remnants of your "heart".

You start to feel hollow. You stop being the happy person you were. The "happy" you is dead—long gone, you suddenly realize. You're now merely a shell of yourself and you know nothing but a hellish, unbearable pain.

Your kind heart is no longer kind. It is full of hatred and loathing and you know you have become a monster.

Your brain tells you to build walls around yourself to keep people away and you do so because you can't handle letting them in.

You are dead.

Not in body. That would have been too merciful.

You are dead inside—in your mind. Emotionally. Mentally. Spiritually.

You are empty; you don't know what feelings are anymore.

You hate everything and everyone, and everything in sight becomes so painfully clear that you see it all in black and white. In monochrome.

You ask yourself a question.

"What are colors?"

You sigh. You've forgotten. Completely.

You ask yourself another question.

"Why can't I see them?"

You sigh again. You don't know.

Everything is so black and white. So plain.

You are disgusted at yourself and the world for making you like this.

You are no longer human, you are now a demon.

Everyone tells you that you are ruining your life with your lack of activity.

You don't listen.

Why?

Because you know it already.

You know you are destroying yourself, and your life. Slowly.

You can't talk to others, you hate them all. You hate yourself.

You hate the universe, you hate everyone, you hate your whole existence.

You die once again as you realize that your life isn't a life anymore.

It's a prison.