Dark trance

I am sickening successful at being an underachiever.

Moi. The amazingly adept self saboteur.

Why do I feel such shame when i am lauded, complimented or even worse for me by far, put into a situation where I have to say the aforementioned about myself? Why can I come across nearly cocky when I joke but feel no connection to the words I joke out of myself, whereas I feel stabbing truth in my self deprecating jabs? It is so easy for me to hate who I am or who I think I am or who I think others think I am that i see every mistake, every indiscretion as one I sought out and after; for destiny's sake.

I can't seem to love myself. I don't feel worth it but I want it so bad from other people and still, when I get it, I feel unworthy of it. I try so hard to get what I am ashamed to hear or receive, the very things I refuse to believe.

And I recently so convincingly martyrized such a strong personal belief. A sacrament I had for my emotional well being, that I formed and molded from years of processing and instances of experiencing the dregs of it's inception. This is another topic, and funny I wrote what I now type earlier. This is the first blog or any sort of writing other than professional or scholarly papers I have put ANY sort of editing into.  I don't count drunken deletes as edits. Still, I have so much to say I know already this is going to have shitty format and structure, and I neeeed to say this all so much I don't care.

I always thought I was born to protect. I BELIEVED. Fucking BELIEVED with all of my heart, with every-fucking thing I have, with all that I am that my purpose was to sacrifice. To protect and fight for others that may not be able to do so, or those that can but need the added arms. I liked to think my mind is dark because of this. I liked to think it had to be, it must be to hide all of the ugliness I held inside me. All of the pain and distorted versions and visions of myself and the the world I was taught to see.

From a lot of painful and tearful introspection. From months of honest analysis of myself, my true emotions and true desires have I found that my mind is not dark. Not entirely, but so beautifully so. My mind is like nightfall on the 4th of July. Colors of every hue visible and those undiscovered and of every shape and dimension exploding into conception and existence with sagacious grandeur from each corner of each mental landscape. The flashes make an almost ambient glow upon what I thought was a desolate battleground of defiled experience, exposed for what I was afraid of with such magnificent light. Exposed is a wealth of depth and richness and beauty all around my emotional vista.

It's only dark when I close my eyes, bar away my heart, and seal off my soul to protect myself for the sake of protecting others and even my own demons. That which has no access cannot be harmed. That which has been hidden and neglected cannot be healed and loved. That which has been suppressed and starved cannot bloom until it takes root.