Within the depths of my being lies a darkness, a shadow that casts its pall over my existence. Yet, outwardly, I project a fabricated light, obscuring the true struggles that consume me. I find myself spending much of my time discussing others and how they affect me. But deep down, I yearn to talk about myself—the emotions I feel, the inner turmoil, the pain, and the challenges I face.
Every day, I strive to become the best version of myself. However, this endeavor has nothing to do with the world’s expectations. It is an internal battle, a constant feeling that I will never measure up, never be good enough in my own eyes.
getting out of bed each morning requires a breath that fills my lungs and fuels my heartbeat. It is not even a conscious effort of my mind, for it remains silent, uninvolved in the process.
Now, I find myself in a place I have visited before—a raw state where everything is stripped down to its core. The pain I bear is exposed, akin to the moment one skins a battle-worn creature.
When I try to explain my experiences to others, it often seems like a work of fiction. Who could possibly have endured as much as I have? How can one person carry the weight of a lifetime filled with love and pain, with intentions of malice lurking silently, waiting for the opportune moment to strike? Anger simmers beneath the surface, concealed from those who perceive me as a fool. There is a saying I once read: “I may be silent, but I notice everything.” I am no one’s fool, even though I am treated as such.
I struggle to trust those around me to provide support, to truly care about me and understand what I am going through. They are absorbed in their own worlds, which is not inherently wrong, but there are times when I yearn for unconditional support without terms and conditions.
My life has revolved around assisting those who struggle to help themselves. My shoulders have become wide enough to bear the weight of their daily problems. Behind every word I speak, lies the truth. I never want the world to fear me, but if only they had an inkling of who I used to be, they would tremble. I battle to keep my inner demons at bay, suppressing every impulsive and aggressive inclination.
It’s peculiar, considering my upbringing. I was raised to be strong, to protect the vulnerable, the scared, and the unloved. I placed so much emphasis on being better for them, but neglected to be better for myself.
How unfair, isn’t it? No, it is not a sign of weakness. Many people perceive me as callous, and my life proves that one person can handle their own problems. Yet, the truth is, I cannot. I never could. I simply had no choice. Whether it was family, friends, or relationships, I became the camel carrying their burdens, their baggage to the next destination. Once they unload their weight from my back, leaving me with the bare minimum, I would say I’m surprised, but I’m not. This has been my life’s purpose for so long. But I have reached my limit. Enough is enough.
I do not relish discussing my failures, but on the 10th of this month, I had a perfect exit strategy. I swallowed twenty pills, ready to succumb. Then, a phone call from my mom, asking about her faulty Wi-Fi, interrupted my darkest intentions. Strange how the universe sometimes intervenes, offering just a little more to ensure survival.
I honestly look back at the attempts made and how easy things could have been. If I were to vanish, the people mourning my absence would do so because there would be no one left to carry their baggage to their next destination. It’s a phrase I’ve uttered before, and it brings forth a sense of sadness and brokenness within me.
This is my moment, a time when I am exhausted and incapable of enduring this pain once again. I yearn to prioritize myself for once, to carry my own burdens as I embark on a journey to a different place. Away from the facade, the anguish, and the burden of being the constant shoulders for the world to lean on.
I hear those familiar words, “I’m here if you need me,” but deep down, I know that if I were to share even a fraction, a mere 10% of my troubles, the weight would be too much for others to bear. They would crumble, collapsing to their knees, pleading for me to relieve them of this burden.