Fear and more [journal]
Aug. 16th, 2004 12:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kyrasantae
I do not know how many buckets of tears I will have cried for knowing how much I will leave behind, how much I will lose, how much I must forget, how much I must protect, how much things must change. Tell me all you want that these things aren't worth crying over, but I will anyway because of how important resisting change is to me, and because of how this will be a complete change -- a whole new life, but not entirely.
I'm afraid.
There are so many things to fear. Some may be realistic but a bit farfetched, and some may hardly deserve to be a serious fear because they are so insubstantial and not worth the attention. But fear will be fear, and so long as I am afraid, I must remain armed against them in the event that they do come to pass.
There is one thing that I fear, but I cannot defend myself from it.
It is myself. Or specifically, my dark side. It is weakening me with its constant demands for sadism and bloodshed. To try to live innocently has become impossible. Resisting this only makes the demands louder, sapping more of my energy as I keep on fighting back. It is difficult to keep its thoughts out of my mind, and I doubt that I could ever completely defeat it, that my only real alternative is to give in. Yet if I do give in, it would be the same as committing suicide, except that there would be a moment of ecstacy and a moment of renewed hunger before I die. It is really any better to die that way, to feel fulfilled, but remorseful as I take my last breath? Even if that moment of fulfillment leaves me quickly for a desire to go further? Is that really any better than dying because of my misery and because it is the quickest way to drive the voice out of my head?
I'm afraid.
There are so many things to fear. Some may be realistic but a bit farfetched, and some may hardly deserve to be a serious fear because they are so insubstantial and not worth the attention. But fear will be fear, and so long as I am afraid, I must remain armed against them in the event that they do come to pass.
There is one thing that I fear, but I cannot defend myself from it.
It is myself. Or specifically, my dark side. It is weakening me with its constant demands for sadism and bloodshed. To try to live innocently has become impossible. Resisting this only makes the demands louder, sapping more of my energy as I keep on fighting back. It is difficult to keep its thoughts out of my mind, and I doubt that I could ever completely defeat it, that my only real alternative is to give in. Yet if I do give in, it would be the same as committing suicide, except that there would be a moment of ecstacy and a moment of renewed hunger before I die. It is really any better to die that way, to feel fulfilled, but remorseful as I take my last breath? Even if that moment of fulfillment leaves me quickly for a desire to go further? Is that really any better than dying because of my misery and because it is the quickest way to drive the voice out of my head?
