the 𝙒𝙊𝙍𝘿𝙎 of the 𝘾𝙇𝙊𝙒𝙉

「 five 」

Is it possible to live a happy life when full of hatred?

It was impossible, right? Well, I liked it when I was being sad. I was happy when sad. Not unlike when I felt the hatred all throughout the cells of my body, I wouldn't feel even if a pinch of happiness. Simply because I was full of hate.

Each time I woke up, I would look at the old mirror and tell to my reflection that I hated her—like so damned much. Not only when waking up, but also when going to somewhere—whether I was in school, a transportation vehicle, when I eat, when I take a bath, when I was doing nothing . . . I just hated my life . . . I didn't want this life.

I had no clear idea on how much time I spent cursing and hating my life. And little did I know, as days had gone by, there was a monster growing up inside of me out of hatred.

The monster that accompanied me wherever I went and whatever I had done. I wanted this monster to go out of my life.

For as long as I could remember, I lived miserably because of this hatred. Lots of horrible things happened. I got broke. I went through a lot of psychological tortures. I cried. I lived in great anxiety. Panic attacks were coming right through me in random ways. I had no peace . . . I was basically drowned in my own salty tears. I'd never actually created a river . . . but a forsaken ocean.

I was in utter chaos—my heart was shattered and my soul scattered.

I had broken myself—hurt it, even.

I honestly started cutting myself. The fear was completely devoured by this great depression. It was like a self-punishment. I actually loved the stinging pain. I deserved these pains, because I was an idiot and worthless human-being.

I kept on dwelling in those horrible thoughts and words of mine. I also created a world of relentless self-inducing pains. And eventually, those thoughts became my life. I became a prisoner of my own mind. I had that kind of sadness that waking up was a huge curse for me. I never liked waking up . . . Truth be told, I wanted to die in my sleep.

I just wanted to end the monster living inside of me. The monster that was ruthlessly manipulating my life.

Yet how funny . . .

The monster that I hated the most became my friend. I learned to embrace this monster as my own. I created her . . . This ghost that kept on showing wherever I was in. Then, I should at least accept her, because she deserves to live, too.

This monster friend of mine was far different from my living friends.

It was a sad thing for me to know that my living friends could glam themselves up. They knew much of the make-up, skin care, and fashion styles. They would arrive ay school with very presentable looks, having their eyelashes extended, cute accessories, polished nails, and very stylish hairdos. Whilst from me, I only came to school with a liar's mask, cuts, wounds, and scars.

I was now wondering if there was a place for me in this world.

Yes, I scarred myself. I still had the visible scars, but I could stop myself from harming my skin. It was like an addiction . . . I had an addiction to pain. I could cut deeper and deeper without any worries.

And still I was confused. What did these pain could give, when I took pleasure of it?

Shame . . . What an indescribable shame.