This life terrifies me. I’m scared of judgement, violence and imprisonment. Of being stigmatized, shunned, condemned. Scared of never being able to connect with another person. Of being forever beyond the pale. I’m scared of spending the rest of my life alone, and dying embittered and ashamed.
I’m afraid of how irreversibly broken I am – so that there’s no point even trying to fix it. I recognize the evil in myself, but I love it – it’s the only thing that gives me respite. There’s no hope of anything good – I’m way to far gone. So evil is all I have left. But still, I hate myself. I both love and hate the evil within me.
I fear there is no happiness for me, no recovery, no peace. Just ever greater regret, shame, despair, loneliness, self-hatred, and desperation. Until death.
Apparently, I fear death more than all of the above.
I don’t remember consciously choosing to be such a coward. It’s not that I never faced my fears. I had to, at least for a time. Day after day. But there were so many of them, and they never went away. My nervous system became hyper aware of threats, and saw them everywhere. I couldn’t turn it off. Every day became an ordeal. So I numbed it. I tried to push all my anger and fear down inside, and it twisted me.
It seems I love torturing myself – making myself miserable by observing my pathetic life, while refusing to let go and embrace the nothingness.