dang it @selfishbastardk - Tumblr Blog

This piece is a reflection of my current emotional state—raw, unfiltered, and real. I didn’t write it for attention, for comfort, or even for understanding. I wrote it because I needed to release the weight I’ve been carrying inside.

If you’re reading this, I’m not asking you to fix me. I just ask that you read it with empathy. This is the reality I’m facing within myself, and maybe, in some strange way, letting it exist outside of me will help me breathe again.

—29 years, 1 month, and 26 days in

I pushed myself back into the darkness—

into loneliness, into emptiness.

I will drift through the void, hoping to find my truest self.

But deep down, I know that’s impossible.

I am the unknown, and I don’t want to be known.

I know what I deserve—

and that’s called hatred.

I used to believe there was light at the end of all this. I used to believe that even the darkest nights could lead to some kind of dawn. But lately, I feel like I’m just sinking deeper, like the light was a lie I told myself to survive.

I wanted to help. I wanted to support others.

But in the process of trying to find myself,

I became something hurtful.

I became the worst.

It’s like my soul is poison.

A virus, a sickness—

spreading harm to everything around me.

And all of it points to one thing:

I should isolate myself.

From everyone. From everything.

Maybe I already am the void.

But now, I feel I need to become it fully.

Remove my existence—

so the world can be more peaceful, more beautiful, without me in it.

There’s a guilt that eats at me in silence. Not just for what I’ve done—but for what I am. For the way I exist, for the way I breathe, for the way I fail at being what others need. Every moment I spend trying to be ‘better’ somehow feels like I’m faking it, lying through my teeth, fooling even myself.

Still, some things don’t make sense.

I try to be helpful. I try to be kind.

I want to pour love into the world.

So why do I always end up being the harmful one?

Is it me?

Is my presence the real harm?

If that’s true… why was I even created?

And if I exist, why do I keep hurting people?

Why can’t I just hide myself?

Why can’t I just become invisible and act like nothing?

It’s a cruel joke—this craving to give love, to feel useful, and yet being the one who ruins things. I want to hold people with gentle hands, but I seem to leave bruises. And the worst part? I don’t even know how I’m doing it. It’s like I’m wired wrong. Like something in me was never built to coexist with peace.

Here’s the reality—

my reality:

I’m tired as fuck.

This life keeps draining me,

and I don’t know if there’s ever going to be rest.

I question my existence every single day.

And lately, it’s getting harder.

I don’t know how much strength I have left.

I ask myself—what happens if I choose to quit?

But I already know the answer:

Nothing will change.

Just one existence—

gone. Disappeared.

Simple, right?

But… it’s not.

I’m not even sure I want to die. I just want this to stop—this heaviness, this echo of failure, this constant feeling of being misplaced in a world I can’t seem to belong to. I don’t want to end my life. I want to escape my mind. Is that possible? I don’t know anymore.

Because there are people who care about me.

And if I go, I’ll leave them with my trauma.

That would be my last gift to them—

pain. And I hate that.

Why do I keep being such a selfish bastard?

When will I finally learn to think about others?

I don’t know.

I’m not ready to leave,

but I think I need to disappear in some way.

Maybe not die—

but isolate.

Go silent. Fade out.