Destroy

There are days when I stare at the white sky and despise the essence of my being.
Minutes, seconds, and hours slip by as I question the reality of things—
overwhelmed by the weight of an immense iron ball pressing against my chest,
keeping me from standing up.

All the words feel worthless.
They can’t describe what I think.
Even if I knew how, I couldn’t tell you.
No matter how much I might’ve loved you then.

Wouldn’t you want a warm hug to shield you
from the cold that sometimes creeps in?

That moment when you are at your most vulnerable—
yet you can’t say a word.
You can’t let anyone know how weak you feel inside.
In this world, you must be strong,
self-sufficient,
aware of your worth.
Because if you don’t care for yourself,
then who will?

That is the harshest truth.

And somehow, it feels even lonelier
when you're surrounded by people who love you.
Even worse without them.
You start to wonder if you're just being complicated.
Difficult. Dramatic. Too much.

They always say it’s just a bad day, a tough season.
But they don’t know.
They don’t understand.
Not because they don’t love you—they do.
They just don’t know how to love you.
And you don’t help them.
Even if you don’t know how to help yourself.

Maybe, deep down,
you don’t want to be helped.
You don’t want to tell them how to fix what’s broken.
Because what if it can’t be?

Addicts crave escape—
the numbness, the forgetting,
the vanishing into something that feels like silence.
But what if you crave the same thing?
Just from a different angle.

You call it emotional exhaustion.
They call it overthinking.
You call it feeling everything too deeply.
They call it drama.

Is it so different?
Both seek to feel nothing.

Sometimes, I feel like life is slipping out of my body,
and I’m too tired to cry.
I don’t cry anymore.
It doesn’t help.

There’s no point in crying over spilled milk,
so what’s the point of crying over the same mess again and again?

When addicts find their ambrosia,
they don’t feel a thing.
And that’s exactly the point.

Artificial happiness.
For a moment, everything seems brighter.
Possible.
But the comedowns are brutal.

What if I’m addicted to feelings?
Or the absence of them?

Can you even tell the difference anymore—
between being emotional and being hooked
on all the wrong things?

Everyone has something to say:

You’re smart.
You have so much to offer.
You’re manipulative.
You’re dramatic.
You’re sensitive.
You’re worth more than you think.

And yet—
I can’t give you the love you deserve.
All these voices around me,
and I still feel empty.

I don’t feel anything anymore.

Just smile.
Be happy.
All your worries will disappear.

One second, you’re still young.
A minute later, it’s too late.
You missed your chance.
But then there are millions of chances after that.
A never-ending loop.

How do you handle time?

Some days, I feel like I can climb any mountain.
That my mind exaggerates everything.
That maybe I’m just too lazy to be happy.
And guilt hits me like a wave.

Guilt—for everything I have.
The clothes I wear.
The food I eat.
The roof over my head.
The friends who love me.
The memories I cherish.
The people who trust me.
The safety net I never asked for.

Guilt makes my blood run cold.
I want to scream that I never wanted any of it—
but I gladly took it.
What an ungrateful feeling to carry inside.

Don’t get me wrong—
I love what I have.
I try to keep the warmth alive.

But secretly,
something dark has taken root inside me.
A living thing that feeds on the parts of me I’m ashamed of.
It’s unpredictable,
and it makes me say and do things I don’t recognize.
The worst part?
It’s me.

It’s a constant battle.
Not with swords—
but with silence, guilt, and unspoken wounds.
Not blood,
but emotion.
Not soldiers,
but people like us—vulnerable.

And in the end,
no matter how strong you look,
everyone loses something.

Don’t you feel it, too?
This numbness—
this fight against the light that once lived inside you?