My insides are full of maggots. The maggots crawl throughout my entire body, bothering the flesh, nudging at it, making my stomach feel as though it lives a life of its own. My stomach is an entity of itself. It is something that frightens me. My stomach has always frightened me. It has always been the source of my deepest regrets and my greatest sadness.
Spiders crawl all over my skin, tickling it and making it pure, making my body pure. Yet my body is rancid and full of waste. My entire being, my entire everything, is a waste in and of itself. It is so heart and gut wrenching to sit by day by day and hate one’s entire being. I often feel like a nonentity, replaced and misplaced, stood on and forgotten, as though I were invisible. I am the invisible girl that no one looks twice at.
If self-loathing were an art form then I am positive I would be a world-renowned artist. This is not something beautiful, not something that I enjoy. I do not delight in spending my nights chain smoking in my bedroom, all alone for hours and hours with nothing but my own mind to keep me company. My mind is poisoned with thoughts that cause me physical agony. These thoughts are ones of loneliness and regret. My brain cannot possibly be similar to anyone else’s because it is black. There is no light in my head because every thought that passes through my mind is much darker than the darkness of a cloudy, moonless night.
If only waking up in the morning would bring me light and joy, something to break the darkness of the night, but my room has no windows. I am always encased in darkness and that makes it impossible for me to peel myself from the covers that seem to be glued to my skin. I wake up sweating from nightmares of things to come, and they always do come.
Whenever I am led to believe that I have met a person akin to myself, I am led astray and beaten down in my temporary happiness. The person may appear to be of the same mind but it is often all an act that I struggle to see through. I myself am see-through yet I still find it difficult to grasp anyone who is more solid than myself.
But God, time moves slowly and it is one of my worst enemies. I spend day after day hoping and praying for the next yet I receive no satisfaction in what is always to come. I seek positive changes yet these changes always backfire on my meticulous plans.
Life needs to be an adventure yet when every day is a struggle to find something real and something worth living for, that will simply never be the case. Maybe the new adventure can be finding a reason to survive.