Fabrication through the centuries.

We've all grown up hearing crap like how if it's worth it, it will never be easy. I want to tell you that that's bullshit. Bullshit fabricated by idealists who spent their lives in pursuit of the very things responsible for their ruin. We all want it to be worth something in the end don't we? That here, at the end of all things it meant something. We're looking for meaning in those very things that took meaning from us, that took peace from us, that took purpose and moulded themselves to look like purpose. To be construed as purpose...by us. Take it from me, if it's worth it, it will be natural, pure, it won't hurt because it won't know pain. It'll help put you together rather than be the very frequency, inside which you can only be blown to bits, only be destroyed and nothing else. I've been taught weird things. Loyalty, how to stick by the side of people you care about even if they've hurt you and mutilated you. I fought it all my life, and here I am at the end, nothing but a filthy product of the same damn submissive thinking that I despise above all else. If it was worth it, it would have put my life right, it wouldn't have thrown me further off base. I wouldn't have been this...this girl whose feelings I'm ashamed of. She's beneath me and I can't live with it. It is all my own doing and I'm deprived of what it would take to fix it. And still, the guilt never goes away. I feel it keenly, much more than anyone possibly can. There are ways to go, but I'm stuck here, in a deep sleep and I can't wake up. I can never wake up. And if I don't, it's the end.

All the things the world ain't ending for.

I'm thinking at the moment about all the things I feel will haunt me forever. Maybe I can't be put back together again. I rejoice in the fact that soon school will be over and I can make a fresh start. Not be burdened with the weight of the past years. I've been terribly unhappy and nobody has been able to make it better. Maybe a new place with new people might actually suit me more than where I have spent my entire life. Soon this nightmare will be over, and I'll try to forget I ever existed there. That any of those people existed that disappoint me, that I look down upon. Maybe just maybe, it will finally be over. And I go on with my painful existence anew. Perhaps happiness is out of my reach but whatever I have gone through, it wasn't the end of the world. The scars can stay there, I don't care. At a certain point we all realize we are all we've got. Even if I am here, in the dark, in eternal solitude, I'll get over it. I'll get over the ache inside, I'll get over the fatigue, I'll get over the fact that I've been mangled beyond recognition. I'll forget about it all. I'm not a lot of things but there is one thing I'll always be. Resilient as hell. I'll survive it all, no matter how I do it, or how long it takes me to get me right, I'll fix it. I fixed me before when I had no one and I can do it again. No matter what I'll ever think or say, Bakhtawar Azam needs no one. She never has and she never will. Creatures like me do not dwell on the affection of anything, we do not need people to hold our hand through the impenetrable darkness. I needed it last year, I was broken last year, like a hole punched through a granite wall but I built it up again. This time nothing and no one will ever get through. This time I will protect myself. This time I will keep my promises.

Nightmarish bondage.

Will it end? I feel the fear strongly now. I barely have it at bay, as it sneers at me in the darkness. It knows that soon it will have its fair share of me and I can't stop it. I can't stop the nightmare. Always the same undertones in all of them and they always find me. How could I be condemned like this...doesn't seem real. Will it never end? It tears me apart from the inside, razor sharp cuts all the way through. Everything else that I have ever faced was external, I can fight the world, I can destroy what threatens me in the outside. My game. My arena. But not inside. I can't fight this, can't fight myself on it. Can't make myself yield, can't turn myself in. It's only me I can never destroy in the outside world. And I'm afraid. Just let this one nightmare be over, and let the next begin.

Game over.

You have to remember what you are. Can't you see the world wanted to play with you? It wanted the most valuable heart in the universe to be out in the open, there for inspection in front of squirmy common folk. The mind of centuries devoted to a mindless cause, a prisoner, when it is that same mind that created prisoners and knew nothing but freedom and nothing about weakness. It is a strange game the world plays, makes you so devoted in its rut that you can't see clear no more. Utter bondage. Pathetic. And it ends today.