When I yell, it’s not anyone’s fault. When I throw things, it isn’t because of anyone. When I hit, I’m not meaning to hurt. Anger changes me. I become something that I despise, a monster. I hurt the people closest to me, physically and emotionally. It hurts when I’m like this. I don’t want to be a monster. I need help, but the enemy won’t let me seek it. The enemy whispers lies to me, saying that I don’t deserve help, and even if I did, I am too far-gone for anyone to save. The enemy makes me do things. It is fueled by anger and fear of getting hurt first. The enemy is me.
I make myself do things. I whisper lies to myself. I am propelled by anger and fear. I am lost and I don’t search for help. I am a monster meaning to hurt. Because of me and because I am alive it is my fault. I am the ultimate enemy.
The Ultimate Enemy
April 29th, 2012 at 10:19pm