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Those are the first words I say when I wake up in the morning. I'm tired. Tired of living, tired of screaming in silence, tired of being alone in this catastrophic world of mine. Hell is said to be scorching, then why is it so cold? It's bitterly frigid in here.
Why do I keep on expecting a sane person to want to be in this chaotic world with someone as chaotic as me? I should quit.
I keep apologizing for everything. When something awful happens, I bear responsibility. I always blamed myself, it's for my peace. I am quite harsh to myself. I feel I have no redeeming qualities. I'm a mediocre. I can get things done, but not exceptionally well. I have anxiety attacks over little disagreements or when I am yelled at, and I overthink everything. That's how horrific I am.
I'm a wrecked ship. I'm putting all of my pieces together to build myself again. Pull out my nail and hammer to mend some wood. Getting hurt while building it, but I'm still trying. It takes a long time to repair, but then the waves came and wrecked me again.
All I want is to be loved. I just want to be cared for. I constantly craved for someone who can give me the love I deserve. I just need someone to keep me sane, like the antidepressants I take. Someone who can hug me when I can't even stand up. Brush my hair if I couldn't sleep like a doze of melatonin and stay with me even if I'm cloaked in darkness, but I don't deserve it because I constantly break nice things.
The bad winter came. I fell ill. I'm barely able to taste. I can't smell anything. Everything hurts and I'm battling to breathe. I closed my eyes. Perhaps this is the end of me. Then someone came to my rescue, a solemn-faced angel with a broken wing.
He picked me up and carried me into a cave, wrapping me in his purely white wings to keep me warm and safe. He took care of me till I woke up. I pushed him away instead of thanking him. I don't want to harm him with my dark soul, and angels aren't supposed to befriend with lost demons like me.
"You tricked me with a hoax. You're an angel like me..."
That's what he said after hearing my furious remarks about shoving him away. He walked up to me, ripped a piece of his clothing, and damped it. He washed away the black tint on my lips and eyelids, revealing a pure and innocent face riddled with wounds and battle scars. I'm not a demon, I'm just in pain.
He let me glimpse the four tattoos on his skin, and since then I've been seeing myself through his eyes. I, too, am an angel, but someone ripped my wings and stole them away from me. I can see my bright sides now, I'm gradually learning to love myself, and he showed me how to love unconditionally.
I still have breakdowns, but the best part is that I'm no longer alone. My angel baby is with me, guiding my every step, helping me in rebuilding my shattered ship, and holding my hand as we looked for my missing wings. Everything has changed. Now, each morning when I wake up, I say:
I'm feeling quite sentimental today since I'm experiencing Thursday blues and I don't have a prompt in mind, so I launched the Spotify app on my phone and shuffled through my Dire Wolf Sorcerer playlist when I heard the Troye Sivan song "Angel Baby" (Hi, boyfriend! Hihi), which gave me the idea for my article.
I hope you enjoyed reading this even if it's a little heavy for the dreary weather. Keep safe you. Santé!