Embedded in the Dark

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At this point in my life, there's always this conflict between myself—me, fighting myself against myself.

It's like I'm always torn between two things—and I cannot firmly decide on which to choose.

I feel like being plunged into a dark tunnel, and I cannot blame anyone for being in this place. There are many situations that drove me to where I am right now, but I know—I know, that no one is to be blamed but myself only. Blaming other people will only result in three fingers pointed back to me.

Then again, being in this dark place, can only be described as being plunged into a misery of self-loathing. I feel like I cannot forgive myself. Like I cannot bear the fact that I can commit mistakes and I beat myself up for it. I cannot ask help for people. I tried, but my heart was just not into it. How can I reveal myself to people who don't give two shits to what I feel? Who is not capable of handling me? Who does not have the will and strength to rise above me. Not that I'm saying I'm high and mighty, but I just want them to be... stronger for me.

But I know I can never demand that from people. But I strive to be that person for others because I know how great strength and encouragement it could give.

I have a major problem in expressing myself—and as of this moment, I'm mentally clapping myself on the back for reflecting on things that I actually feel and mean. There are times that I just feel despair and when I try to voice them out, I feel so embarrassed and shamed to even feel them. I feel like I don't have the right to feel them or say them or admit it.

I hate myself. I hate myself for giving up. I hate myself for failing. I hate myself for feeling sorry for myself. I hate it. Most of the time, I don't really feel anything, except for the gaping hole within and the voices inside my head—all leading me into an endless cycle of blaming myself.

Another grueling fact about this harsh world is that—when you got some serious shit to deal with, some people will not hesitate to just give you that again on a platter in double.

Or triple.

Especially if those people are the people close to you.

It turns out the ones who you cherish the most will be the ones most likely to break you into pieces. Over and over.. slowly.

"Damned stupid kid! Have you learned nothing at all!"

A disturbing collision of silverwares resonated within the confines of our house. My mother, on her usual ranting rampage—held out—just until my control snapped. Of course, it didn't just end there.

"Don't you dare talk back to me! You never listen to what I say—!"

Thus the cue of me zoning out, including me shutting out every nasty word I hear from my mother's mantra—to me, which is like acid in my bones, because of hearing it over and over again and never coming to the end of it.

And never meeting at a certain point.

I was just sick and tired of this.. whatever this is. It almost feels like a routine, that even if I strive to keep going, all I feel is like I'm a hamster on a wheel.

I thought I was going somewhere but all along I was just running in circles.

I know my thoughts usually revolved mostly around me throwing a fucking pity party—I try to tamp it down, I really do.. but sometimes I just can't. Or rather, most of the time.

Seriously, I needed saving from my own self.

And damn if I anchor my hopes in someone of saving myself. I've seen countless of people—too many to count, even people I don't actually know, to fall into the same trap of hoping that someday someone will save them from their own shit.