I built up this shame within myself. All the humiliation, the rage, the bewildered hurt, the self-hatred, the fear. Why are they treating me like that? What had I done to deserve it? Why am I just letting it happen?
All of that poison, I channelled into this parasite growing in my mind. Layer on layer, over years. And gradually it became who I was. I found ways to enjoy letting the hatred seep out, without really being aware of what I was becoming. Worse and worse.
And I made myself into something so shameful that now I’m incapable of ever feeling ok with myself again.
And I want so badly to be free of that shame. To be able to live again. But it’s too big a part of who I am now. It permeates everything.
So then death becomes the source of hope. The idea that it will finally be gone. All of that pain, shame, fear, regret. Finally no more. I won’t exist to enjoy being free of it. But it’s a nice thought – no matter how sick and contaminated my brain is now, in its decay new life will grow, unburdened by all that.
But what if there’s no end? What if there is some kind of soul? What if I have to drag around this shame for eternity. Maybe that’s hell. Being trapped within your own torment, unable to move beyond it.