rant | stuck in limbo

Sadness is a blessing,

Sadness is a pearl,

Sadness is my boyfriend,

oh,

Sadness, I'm your girl.

I can't sleep/I can't eat/I can't absorb

I wake up with my bones aching/I wake up feeling like my end is near/I wake up not wanting to wake up

I knew this day was going to come/I knew I was going to break down sooner or later/I knew I was not meant for living

I'm weak/I'm vulnerable/I'm defeated

Once again I'm writing in the middle of the night narrating the sob story of My Life. I do not seek pity, I do not want people sympathising me. I write as a form of escapism. Albeit it seems selfish with the repeated usage of "I", as though the world revolves around me, but no. 

If there's anything I care less in the world it will have to be myself. I don't hate myself, no I really don't. The strong and brave front I put up all the time is a mere facade. fucking facade. Comments on how I've inspired other girls by coming out so strong, like as though I've "been through a lot", how I "defy the general stereotypes of girls"... I don't understand. Perhaps people fail to see through the mask each of us have on, no one truly knows how someone else is like - Friends won't understand; Partners won't understand; Spouses won't understand; Parents won't understand. 

Stuck in this dungeon called my Mind, a place more complicated to escape than the Cretan Labyrinth; where the monster living in it is deadlier than the Minotaur. One can argue that the Minotaur was killed in the end by Theseus and all was well but who's going to kill the monster in my head? With nerves having a bumper car ride, head contracting every other minute, with every move I make I feel nauseous... Slowly but surely I'm losing hope and faith. 

 "What's that? Is it light at the end of the tunnel?"

 "Oh, I'm pretty sure it's an incoming bullet train which is going to run me down in 3...2... ......."

 A typical cynical thought generated from the top of my head.  And the only way to release me from my misery is to counter poison with poison and the remedy is to inflict pain. I like tattoos. I've always like it. Not to show off, but to serve as a reminder of what I should and should not be/should or should not do. I thought maybe I can't be left alone and needed company so possibly a pet will help me but that idea got rejected... So I'm left to think of alternatives to cure myself. 

 I hate people touching me, letting people infuse thoughts and moral teachings to my head disgusts me, I strive to think for my own. I am independent that way. I am headstrong. I wish nothing but the freedom of my thoughts which may or may not kill me but I yearn for the license to think for my own. Maybe seeking medical help is not the cure, maybe all I need is to live. 

Just, live...

Somehow I find that it's not anxiety or depression that is pressing me down, but the inability to fight for what  I want in life and till the day I find out what I really want, I'll be stuck in limbo and nothing will be able to save me from myself.

Till then.