On fears

I can’t sleep, but this time I know why. I am all too aware… of everything. I know what I did to myself. I see my countless mistakes magnified, in neon lights, blinking in front of me. A terrifying marching of flaws, bad judgments, lies and compromises. They are all on me. Every single one of them.

This is what hurts the most, that they were all choices. The circumstances are insignificant, the people involved coincidental. I always had a choice, and so many of them were wrong.

All my head is filled with now are the countless, uttered empty words. Meanings that entered and saturated my existence with the weight of a million universes, but which ultimately meant nothing at all. I took it all in. I processed every soul I came into contact with, with a humanity that ultimately left me less than human. I fought myself the way you fight a nemesis you loathe. I trapped myself within a prison cell I built of all my misgivings.

I don’t care what I did to anyone else. I only care what I did to myself. For if I had loved and trusted myself enough, I wouldn’t have hurt anyone else. And if I had, I would have been able to live with it. Because at least it would have been honest, fair, human.

We are not human. We like to act like we are, but we’re not. We have human moments, but all we are is animals, living inside beautiful cages we design out of our greatest fears. We feed off them, breathe through them, succumb to them, fight against them, project them onto the faces of the ones we claim we love, but we never leave them. We are them.

If the past two years have taught me anything is to see them for what they are. I recognize them now. The illusion has been shattered; the hologram destroyed. I know what I fear. At least I know that. And the only thing that makes me happy in this very moment is that I fear myself no longer.


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