The moth that endured my wrath

Die! Die! Die! Calgon tabs flying out of the box. The cardboard corners dented, the package entirely deformed. Die! Die! Die! Frustration, aggression pours out of me.

It’s still wiggling, twitching, one winged, still moving. I tried saving it. I gave it a chance. I tried letting it out the window. The good in me tried to set it free.

It’s brown blood left stains in the sink, smudges, smears. I try drowning it. Left the tap running. It still manages to gasp for air, escaping the waterfall. It’s beady eyes pleading for it’s life. I’m merciless. Angry. Frustrated. Heartless.

Rejected. Disappointed. Heart-broken. Taken for granted. Lonely. I feel loved by so many but have never felt more lonely. Even the warm hug of a friend, a loving smile from a colleague or the kind words of a parent feel worthless.

Disgusting. I must be a horrible person. What is wrong with me? I’m not special enough. Why is everyone care about my personal life all of a sudden, now that it doesn’t exist? I got stood up. Left dangling, waiting for some kind of affirmative action, confirmation, acknowledgement. Why?

Am I so unbearable? Scribbling in my notebook. Writing so fast, the letters tripping over each other, barely legible, the curves and the lines. Liar! I became too invested. I should be as cold and careful as the people around me. I shouldn’t take any chances. Never show affection or emotion of any sort. No disappointment or shame if no one saw the spark of hope and joy in your eyes.

Culture shock. The emotional, extroverted Syrian in Germany. It had to go wrong. I keep promising myself never to open up to anyone again. Disappointed. Too bad the Cotard Delusion is not contagious. Walking through life like a zombie. Feeling dead inside. That seems to be my only chance at assimilation.

Am I angry at the moth? I’m angry at myself, angry at the world. Life sucks sometimes. A lot more often lately. I’m starting to doubt myself. Barely catching up but not achieving anything. Always busy but not doing anything. What’s the point? Invest so much. Work so hard. Make yourself vulnerable by being yourself. Show the real you just to be left out in the rain.

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