This is a rant. This is also my story, and apparently the only way to tell it now is not by using delectable words, but by spitting uncontrollable angst. Because it’s been two years and many, many breakdowns. It’s been a thousand disclaimers being yelled from the top of my ever-growing fortress, and no bulldozers breaking my walls. It’s been affection running away the moment it takes one look at me — the real me, which I’ve come to accept, but somehow nobody else has. It’s been a long, tiring, endless journey with no destination, only several roundabouts and I always end up in the very place I started.
I’m changing, I feel it everyday. I’m becoming a stronger person, and I’m afraid I might end up becoming a little too strong, a little too self-sufficient to ever let anybody in. Because so far, I’ve managed on my own. The ones I’ve counted on have only left. Who’s to say they won’t, again? I’m tired. It’s like I not only have to live my nightmare but also write a case study on it, to help others help me. I can’t keep doing that when pushing away comes so easy. I can breathe alone in silence and still survive the day. Then why should I put in the effort when they won’t do the same for me?
Every day is a fight. Every mundane little thing, an achievement. I don’t handle myself, I don’t understand myself even… but I have come to terms with this painful pattern I live, and I’m patient with it now. And there’s no way in hell I’ll allow anybody to destroy it for me.
You want to prove me wrong? Tell me I’m not alone in this. Then figure it out.
It’s time the loved ones of the suffering put in more effort, and patience into loving them. Find your way around the barbed wires and the gates that won’t open. I’m done helping you. You say you love me, it’s time you performed. Because even if you fail, I will survive. I know how. Living with depression hasn’t made me weak, I’m a raging dragon — awfully fierce even in my sleep. My tongue is a twentyfold weaponry and my skin, hot lava. I’m one with darkness and it swallows everything. But it’s been a long fight, my edges are more brittle. The thing is, I can survive this ALONE, I just don’t want to.
