grayscale photography of person at the end of tunnel

Why is it so hard for me to be rid of my demons? I thought that if I got through the four years of undergrad, then it would be better and I would be cured–even as naive as that sounds now that I think about it–I still hoped that it was that simple. I put up with trauma after torturous trauma–battling external influences while shutting down the internal war within me. I stitched my quivering lips together, silencing my begging screams for help. I built barricades and walls made of fences, mud, bricks and electric wires to not let anything in or out. I remained an isolated prisoner in my head. I faked the smiles and the carefree nature. I listened to others and made myself a bridge that people could come and walk on, rest idly and gain comfort from the safety and acceptance that I could not be for myself. I became so consumed with my performance that even I was fooled into believing that this is how I truly was. But it’s not. I don’t even know who the real me is. I don’t think I could even point her out in a line up. Now isn’t that just sad. It has been 2 weeks and some change since I graduated. And yet the darkness creeped back under the pores of my flesh leaving a gaping hole inside of me. I ache. Not the physical ache where I injured myself accidentally or on purpose. But the ache that seeps through my veins, contaminating my organs, killing my heart slowly. But if I were to go to a doctor, they would detect nothing and diagnose me as healthy. My mind plays this dirty trick on me that makes me feel rotten. I truly feel like my soul is black or maybe it is simply empty and hopeless. A forever dark hole that goes on forever, leaving you queasy. My mind and heart are on this constant war to live and its clear that my heart, no matter how battered and pushed around its been, is desperate to beat. So I ache daily from the tug-of-war and constant black hole that never seems to end because there is this 5% of me wanting to live. I don’t even know how to feel anymore. I can’t even trust myself to diagnose what I’m feeling. Will it ever be different? Maybe this post was pointless after all and I don’t even know what I am writing anymore. Yeah, I don’t know about this rant .


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