I thought I'd opened the shell and stepped out finally. Tried seeing the world, tried facing reality. I'd done it, and then I looked back. I rushed back to the shell, snuggled inside and shut it.
Can it be believed that I missed being miserable and in despair? So much so that I turned back to it? To it's comfort in discomfort?
What I want now, I don't know how deep down that want is, or how superficial it is; is to stay miserable. I want to get worse. I want to break down completely, I want to become hopeless. I want to inflict pain on myself. I want to drown this suffering in more suffering. I want to shut out even the slightest ray of hope. I want to end all the happiness, all the comfort, all the feelings of security.
And the sane part of me, however diminished, is angry because I want all that. It's angry because I've given up. Because I don't even want to fight back. Because I'm forfeited to my emotions, to my misery.
But that sane part is gradually losing out. I'm getting insane. I'm getting masochistic. Badly.
What's wrong with me??
