I don’t feel sorry for myself. I only regret the person I will become. I try every single day to stay upright and slaughter my demons but they never stop coming at me. I lie to myself about my future but I know there isn’t one. You don’t know how tired I am. My body is healthy but the mind that wields it is drained of life and spirit. My failures are too many and my success non existent.
How I would like to be that person, that happy success story. How I am not… The success of others cuts my heart the deepest. It isn’t jealousy or envy but merely a reminder of my own incompetence and the futility of my existence. I do not envy possessions of others but only my dreams. Oh how many of them I have, though their number burdens me. I do not ask for what others have but only for what I can earn. But now I can’t earn none, I’m too weak.
I don’t even deserve the success I desire. My actions have been few because my motivation and spirit has been strangled. I feel an empty skeleton. A person of my making would make a perfect soldier, though I lack the resilience and the toughness. The constant struggle of what I am and what I should be steals the energy to be used for becoming the person I am to be. Surviving one horde of enemy numbers only prepares me for another and another… When am I to rest and rebuild?
For long I wanted freedom but that’s unattainable. Freedom does not exist for me because It and me are one. All the sadness inside me is me. It is what makes me what I am and it is what kills me. How can I fight myself when myself knows what myself can do? I destroy myself because destroying myself is the only way I see to get free.
I do not require pity nor help. I do not need you to look down at me with those sad eyes because, yes, I am kneeling, but only to rest, momentarily. I have been through hell and to hell I am marching. You would break walking my steps, but I break walking in yours… Perhaps we are at the right sides of life and perhaps one day I will reach my destination. But the road ahead is long and punishing.
I just ask for a promise that my scars will buy my dreams. I do not ask to simplify my challenges nor give me help. I ask for hope. I ask my faith to be repaid. I am marching to the promised land though I may not get there. If my legs fail, I’ll crawl. You will have to spear my heart to put me down. You failed for so long to kill my essence that I doubt you can. Every time you think I came close to ending it I kick back harder than ever before.
You think you are so dark and powerful I scorn at your mightiness. Your moves are predictable and your minions are idiots. I lived through everything you threw at me and I pushed forward. I shed a lot of blood and even more tears but you failed your mission and I’m only starting mine.
One day you’ll face me yourself and that will be the day I will put my sword through your throat because you only understand strength and brutality. You taught me how to beat yourself and now you are scared because you know that maybe, just maybe I’ll make it and you won’t.