I get mad at myself. Sometimes I want to give up. But I don't. Sometimes I don't even know why. I know that things can get better.
I know that there is no problem without me making one, so why only sometimes?
Why can't I always know that there's another side? That after my problem I can walk into the fields of peace. Walk away from the pressure and pain.
The underestimation of real issues, the dwelling on fake ones.
Why can't I leave the place of horror that has been molded by years of ignorance of the pain that others don't see? What keeps me here other than the silent shackles I've tied myself with?
I am hurting. I can't stay without drowning in my own tears. I want to give up.
I'm held up by no more than invisible chains. They dangle from the ceiling. They taunt me, asking why I don't just end it. But only I hear. Only I hear, so only I listen.
Do others have chains? Are others dragged like puppets? Desperate to satisfy the cruel words of the chains, watching the sad tears slip through the eyes of their reflections? Or is it only me?
Only me who suffers the pain I put onto my own self, only to watch myself through stains of insanity?
Why? Why do I listen to the chains? Why don't they listen to me? Why are my cries muffled by a wall of ignorance? Why can't they pierce it? Why can't I be heard? I don't understand.
I don't understand why I shouldn't just give up. But I hold on. Maybe I believe the words, but they can't hurt me if I don't let them. That's what I tell myself.
Clear blood streaming down my face, shown only to me. Nobody understands it. The feeling, the anger, the pure pain.
Why must I endure the torturous path while others jeer and mock me? Why me? Rivers of hatred flood my logic. It is unfair. I want to break my cage. to scream and shout. To hurt someone.
But I don't. I can't. I have no reason to keep going.
The hits have already landed. The fuse already lit. It is only a matter of a few raw moments before sparks hit the explosive rage that I hide inside myself.
With help, maybe I could pinch out the flaming string. Maybe I could douse it. But there is no help. I am utterly alone in a game made for teams. No longer can I handle the heat.
I want no more than for everything to stop. myself, the others, and everything between, but it doesn't.
Careless nature ignores my pleas for a brief pause in the wrenching pain of intolerable anger. I give up. My anger turns to sadness. No longer can I handle the cold.
The cold bitterness of lonely despair. There's no reason for my pain, no reason for my anger, yet it's still here. Why? Why is it here? Why is it my fault? I am truly alone on my road to the end.