The Relapse

I had my share of loss. But I think no one should lose as much as what I have lost. It’s like getting blood out of a stone. Enough to drive you up the wall. I hope I can protect myself from losing anymore. But it’s happening again. I’m losing myself. And there’s nothing I can do to stop this from happening. But the best thing for me to do is to prepare and give myself a fair warning so it will no longer be a surprise. So it will not be damaging. My head is so physically and mentally defeated that it’s about to blow up. Why do I always try to make sense out of things that don’t make sense? It’s my fault. I’m not saying this because I think I’m supposed to say it. I’m saying this, all the time so that maybe, I start to believe it. Feel bad to myself. And so others will feel better. So I’ll say it again, it’s my fault. I don’t know how to bite my tongue anymore. I’m dragging myself in my own loop trap. I’m scared, drained and pushed myself too far. Enough in fighting this losing battle.

I have been having coming out flashbacks. I can’t surmount my panic attacks. Courage, please don’t you dare fail me now. I thought it could go all away when I blink. I thought it will disappear when I shout. But I’m suffocating, gasping for air. I failed to recall that I only have a voiceless outcry. That no matter how I try to yell out, they’ll never hear me. And so I’m begging you to stop grappling my wrist, stop pulling my weakening bones. It’s physically unyielding and hurting me. Please put an end from choosing me as target for your rage when I say something that does not favour your will. I beg you to stay away from attacking my weaknesses, my personal imperfections and vulnerability. I will likely suffer. Because you know I can’t defend myself and won’t get off my feet. I will only see the glass half empty. Significant in the degree of hopelessness and desperation. I can’t breathe. I heard the voice and it was instant. The chill went down my spine. Stirring up my memories when my whole body feels broken. Like sticking myself with needles. It’s devastation. It was like part of my body has been taken, but worse. I see myself suffering the same pain I inflicted to myself years ago. That’s how deep my understanding of the past and the pain. And every time I look at myself now, I feel her pain as my pain. Her suffering is my suffering. And until I admit that I’m losing myself, I’m not gonna be able to move past this idea and obsession and the need to hurt that I can’t stop feeling.

Try. Begin. Two words, the most important words I have heard today. Sounds simple, typical. Uncomplicated but how did I fail to notice or hear this? Somebody said, whoever can’t hear or see must feel. Don’t tell that to me. Because in order for you to do that, you must first have feelings. I’ve lost greater part of that. I have nothing left but pain. I failed. They said you can try and then fail but it doesn’t mean you must stop. But you can try, fail and begin to try again. Never take a single breath for granted. Someone is trying to give me hope. Something I haven’t had for a long time. But I’m trying to know who he really is. I wish I knew who it was. Yet I’m also scared to know the answer. Now that’s my problem. When will I stop fearing? When will I be free from bricking myself, from being anxious, and frightened? Why am I so scared of everything and the anonymous?

I know that you’ve been alone for much of your life and that’s why you needed me so much but sometimes it’s just too much. But it’s too much for me sometimes, too. You needing me. And it’s the only reason of that obsession. The only reason why you can’t just leave me. But you insist we’ve always needed each other, me finding my way back to you in the end and that’s what our entire bond has been about. But I think our relationship has been all about apology. You could have just said you’re sorry. But you’re always trying to pull me into your life. Seeing myself like this can really mess with my head, sending myself to some dark place but you can’t go there. It doesn’t help. So when I get that urge to hate myself or hate my life, I just got to bury it. I don’t get my hopes up.

Think of all the pain that could have avoided if you had just let me go. I’m saying this because I think I’m supposed to say it but I don’t really mean it. I don’t regret it.

I can love you and still decide you are not for me.