Letters through the dark night

Letter 4

"Sometimes, the ones to let go of us is not our enemy, but us ourselves, to set us free."

All these life I've been chained up, tied up to my very inner core - by me.

I told myself I'll be safe like this. Nobody can set me free, nobody can catch me, hurt me.

I told myself to be brave, to chain myself, turn myself, paint myself all over and wear my beautiful mask to make myself look like them - those people I live with, those I adore, those I get annoyed with, those whose lives seem so, laid out.

I told myself it would be okay.

I was different, that was fine, but I was in some way, corrupt and dark. That I bring the bad in people. That I was terrifying, so I decided to paint myself and make my own collection of masks, sitting there in all its glory.

I told myself I was going to help people. I was going to change. I was going to learn from them, how they put their masks on, how they paint themselves, how they acted...

I told myself I was not good enough. That I needed to try harder. That the reason they kept hurting me was because I hurt them.

So I should just chain myself until the moon goes up, then I can be free, when no one can be hurt. When I can truly accept myself.

Then in the morning, it all goes back. I look at my script, I look at my friends and family. I try to help them as much as I can. I know I'm flawed but I'm trying, gaining as much happiness as I can as I do something good - for once.

I knew I was weak, but I try to be strong - but somehow... I feel as if I'm not strong enough.

What do you think?

Am I crazy? Weird?

I don't know what you think, but life as you must be great.

You get to have the graceful pen and the flowing ink, lay out all its mysterious stories, gravitating towards them, stories laid out all over you.

You get to see stories from all over the world, the universe.

You get to help us, and you hurt us, but in the end, you're still you and the one making mistakes is us.

And I know what you'd say O wise and grand paper.

You shouldn't paint yourself, chain yourself up, or wear a mask.

But then, I worry that my darkness will seep all around me and I won't be able to handle it anymore and -

But I know what you'd say, accept who you are blah blah blah.

But you can't help it if you feel so useless and worthless, especially when people call you that.

After so long, you've gotten used to it, it doesn't hurt you any more, but the worst thing is that it gets ingrained in you in some way.

A side of you thinks you are amazing and great and knows both flaws and strength while the other side thinks, you can do better, you haven't done anything for society ever since you were born.

But it's hard.

It's hard in this new society to truly accept who you are when there are others there, whom hurt you, whom you are scared to hurt because you don't want to hurt them, so you let them scratch you.