I’m scared.

A person can feel a myriad of emotions within a second. Happiness, sadness, anger, defeat, triumph; the human capability of emotion is astounding. Emotion can give strength, and emotion can cripple within an instant.

So what do you say to the person who experiences seconds of nothing, swiftly followed by despair, defeat, self-hatred, and fear?

Sometimes, I am filled with hatred for the people in my life. I hate them for their happiness. I hate them for their successes and failures. I hate them for knowing me. I hate them for loving me. I hate them for believing in me.

I had a professor once tell me that he would be greatly disappointed in me if I ever committed suicide. I loved him in that instant, and I hated him.

This life, at times, is a burden I don’t know how to carry. I struggle, and trip, and when the ground breaks my fall, I wish it would have killed me instead. I wish it would kill me so I would never have to stand up again.

People are afraid of many things. Snakes, spiders, clowns, each other. They are afraid of failing; they are afraid of disappointing others. They are afraid they look bad; afraid that they will never find love.

I fear all those things. I fear failure. I fear returning to my childhood home with nothing to show. I fear not being good enough for love. I fear not being a good role-model. I fear being a hypocrite. I fear that my voice is worth nothing. I fear hating those I also love, and with this I find myself resentful.

I resent being told I’m going to change the world. I resent it as I watch the numbers change on the clock, knowing I’ve wasted another day. I resent knowing how to change my life, because not knowing would make this self-loathing easier to bare. I resent being told of my greatness, when I know the truth. When I know the courage and strength others see is held together by Elmer’s Glue.

But mostly, I’m scared. I’m scared of being nothing. I’m scared that this so-called purpose really is to exist just to convert oxygen into co2. I honestly do not care if I am something to someone, because those someone’s are not there in the darkness. They are not there when I scream for help. They get sad when I leave, after months of no contact or conversation. Life goes on, with or without me. It’s scary to others, this reality. They beg that I fight; they beg that I talk to them. That I speak the truth, so that I can change. To share my story to help others change.

I’m sad

How can I change the world when I can’t even change myself?

How can I exist when each day I just wished I didn’t? I’ve battled this for so long that the scars are visible. Nicks in skin that craved the battle. This battle is in my heart, and in my mind, every single day. A conscious decision, even though rhyme forgot to bring along reason for the ride.

I am loved. I feel sick from it. I wish I didn’t. I wish I didn’t have this screwed up sense of honor to others, and none to myself. I wish I was selfish enough to show the world how selfish it really is.

But I’m scared. I’m scared, so each day I breathe. Each day I smile, and laugh. Each day I allow the emotions to plague me, allowing wars to rage while I whistle over breakfast. This is my reality; to love death, and hate life. Yet, I love the living. I love their stories, I love the slip into oblivion.

A pure definition of insanity created by those who never understood how someone can long for true freedom, but fought alongside their shackles.

It is amazing isn’t it; the human emotion.

I’m happy.

Because I love you.