A Letter of the Self to Itself
It’s fascinating, to be honest. How the idea that both of us exist in a manner that is separated but whole. Basically speaking, we are one and bounded with each other. You are me as much as I am you and we both know that in the beginning that is the problem.
Your whole life becomes a parade of misfortunes and countless failures because you are me. It’s uncanny how the thought of you continues to plague my mind in such agonizing way that I feel a profound guilt whenever it occurs to me that somehow in these blurry lines - you exist. Fuck me, for fucking up your life.
To that, I am deeply sorry. I apologize for all the years that you have to endure in the shadow of my callous existence. I would have had hated myself if I were you and better yet get rid of myself entirely. But the fact that i’m still here means so much of your existence rather than mine. I am always the distructive one and I know, or at least I believe that you are always the one that keeps pulling me up. In a subtle way, just like how my hands tremble with fear every time I try to cut myself open.
I am always been appalled by how pain seems to be remotely placed away from me. Often times, I feel it but it doesn’t feel that it’s mine. There’s a sense of disconnection and also ownership that isn’t directed to me and so I thought, whenever I feel this kind of confusion that perhaps it was you. You’re the one that is suffering in all these years and I only just deal with the aftertaste of every pain I inflicted to you. I wonder how are you still alive?
We could have had just ended everything that night. We could have been both dead since then.
Then maybe I will understand
Perhaps we could fight for it together.
I don’t even feel that I love you enough to stick by your side, but in the weirdest way possible, I feel that you do.
I feel that you care for me.
and I hated you for that.
I hated that I have this tiny spark of life within me that continues to flicker lights however dim it is. I hate the fact that i’m still here and you are suffering. I don’t even understand why I feel like this. Or perhaps, I just don’t want the thought that i’m all alone at this.
Maybe I need you much as you need me to fight longer.
This is so fucked up, I know and i’m tired of it.
Can you at least lend me a hand and take over?