monster

There’s so much conflict in me between the parts of me that want to live and those that think I shouldn’t. Even if I could find someone who wanted to be involved with me on a surface level (feels unlikely), I’d never be able to be honest with them. And maybe that would feel even worse than this complete loneliness. To be deceiving someone you cared for, to be deeply wronging them simply by your involvement. So close to a meaningful connection, but fundamentally lying about who you are.

There’s a monster in me. That sounds melodramatic, but it’s the best way I can think to express what is a part of me. It’s not a very impressive monster – not the glamorous kind you see on tv. More the pathetic, repulsive sort that hides in the shadows. But it’s there. Marginally better restrained than in the past. But always there, desperate to be fully unleashed.

I should kill it. And because it is me, I should kill me. I don’t think I  could ever let go of it. Not completely. It’s too deep.

But presuming I don’t do the honorable thing and instead continue to stick around, I shouldn’t involve anyone else in my life. I shouldn’t deceive people into caring about me or trusting me. Because if the truth ever comes out they would feel disgusted and traumatized.

The thing is, although I’m a monster, I’m still human. I still crave connection and closeness to other people. Loneliness and isolation are not good for the mind, and are a large part of what feeds that side of me. And any slim hopes I have of somehow changing involve other people.