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I'm struggling.
When I smile it's not fake. It just usually means I've forgotten for a while. Forgotten what it means to be human. Raw, and emotionally exposed to an existence that I don't understand.
I have to believe that I was created without the ability to comprehend my own existence, or I might learn to hate myself more. Hate myself for not chasing desire, hate, fear, passion, love; anything that could explain to me more of what it means to be who I am. What I am.
How long have I been awake for?
I can remember the periods when I was frozen. And I didn't feel anything good. And I think that I remember a time when I didn't, think. But when did I realize that I was alive? That I existed?
I do exist.
And more and more that seems to be the reality that is enlivening all of my problems.
More and more often I've been told that life is a journey of self-discovery. To uncover the truths that lie within--the who, the what, the within that is one's self. And every time I hear that, I retreat more into my shroud of fear.
Who I am. What I am. Why I am. Destroy my thoughts. My heart.
The more I attempt the journey, the further a distance it seems to be, and I become overwhelmed with discouragement.
I fear knowing.
How do I battle fear? My own fear. Of myself.
My truth--I am my own greatest fear.
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