The weight of pain
I feel as though I am reaching the very point of sickness. My body seems to be giving up on me, worn down by unrelenting pain that never lets me rest. Even simple tasks leave me dizzy and disoriented, my legs unable to carry me. On the worst days, I cannot leave the room. The world outside my door feels distant and empty, offering nothing but more reminders of what I cannot do. Isolation has become both a choice and a trap—a place where pain waits, and I wait with it.
Inside my mind, a different kind of suffering has hold. Severe depression fills every corner of my thoughts, whispering and shouting at the same time. I long for the noise to stop, but I don’t know how to quiet it. At times, it feels as if the guardian angel who once protected me has given up, moving on to someone more deserving of her help. I pushed her away because I have convinced myself that I am not worthy of love or belonging. I feel as though I have nothing to offer anyone.
The pain in my body has begun to crush my spirit. Fear no longer reaches me; nothing surprises me anymore. My mind struggles to process what is happening, and I feel myself drifting further from the emotions that once connected me to others. There is a ringing in my ears that never ceases, as if some unseen force demands my surrender—screaming for recognition, insisting that I thank it for choosing noise over silence.
Yet even as I grow numb, a part of me still loves people. I want to make others feel safe, comfortable, and heard, because no one deserves the torment I endure. At the same time, I fear that those I care for would not have the strength to carry what lives inside me. My suffering feels endless, persistent, almost admirable in its determination to break me. Something wants me alive, but for reasons I cannot understand, it also wants me to suffer.
I often ask myself why I do this to myself, why I remain in this struggle. I know I possess a sharp intelligence. I see patterns and truths that many people overlook, as if a static haze shields their minds from the painful realities that I cannot escape. I wish I did not see so much. The knowledge presses against my mind until I feel ready to stop caring altogether. I know this will stay with me for the rest of my life. Time may dull its edges, but it will never disappear completely.
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