To my dearest friend,
I write to you today, at this fine hour of six in the morning, seized by tears. It is with immense relief that I report this outpouring of emotion to be short-lived, however distressing, but also having opened to me a brief open window for introspection, for during my usual periods of leisure I willfully shut my eyes and ears to the clear ills plaguing my current state of being, all of which are, as you should know, hardly circumstantial, and very much self-inflicted. To consistently disparage one's own self is akin to shouting at an echo chamber, and the vile thoughts resound to heights of immense proportion. This, my friend, is tantamount to torture, where the afflicted individual acts both as aggressor and victim, a plaything for their failures and the heinous thoughts pressed upon them like ravenous wolves encircling prey.
No longer do I wish to be held in bondage to my tormentor! True, I may be the weak creature predated upon by vile creatures in my head, but I shall not concede defeat, no, never. Is it possible to stay the hand of hatred with love and acceptance? A lofty proposal, true, though I hardly have anything of myself to lose in pursuit of a veritable answer. "I wholeheartedly accept you, myself." I face this sad and miserable creature inside me, which has its tongues of malice plunged into my chest, and I spread my arms to embrace it. "You and I are one, and I apologize, sincerely, for the harsh words I have passed unto you. This pain you have caused me is also yours, your retaliation in the face of rejection, when all you wanted was love, so I shall bear it, for both of us. Allow me me hold your hand, and tell you how sorry I am for pushing you away all these years."
My dear friend, I entreat you not to turn your trenchant blade upon my body, but against the many trials I anticipate lay ahead. This is a relationship that must be mended with time, and I still have my usual foibles and foul days, but the path of healing is not traversed in a single bound. Wish me luck, my friend. I strive, from here on out, to make reparations, and become someone who can reflect upon their own mistakes, reserving judgments, and forgive.
I write to you today, at this fine hour of six in the morning, seized by tears. It is with immense relief that I report this outpouring of emotion to be short-lived, however distressing, but also having opened to me a brief open window for introspection, for during my usual periods of leisure I willfully shut my eyes and ears to the clear ills plaguing my current state of being, all of which are, as you should know, hardly circumstantial, and very much self-inflicted. To consistently disparage one's own self is akin to shouting at an echo chamber, and the vile thoughts resound to heights of immense proportion. This, my friend, is tantamount to torture, where the afflicted individual acts both as aggressor and victim, a plaything for their failures and the heinous thoughts pressed upon them like ravenous wolves encircling prey.
No longer do I wish to be held in bondage to my tormentor! True, I may be the weak creature predated upon by vile creatures in my head, but I shall not concede defeat, no, never. Is it possible to stay the hand of hatred with love and acceptance? A lofty proposal, true, though I hardly have anything of myself to lose in pursuit of a veritable answer. "I wholeheartedly accept you, myself." I face this sad and miserable creature inside me, which has its tongues of malice plunged into my chest, and I spread my arms to embrace it. "You and I are one, and I apologize, sincerely, for the harsh words I have passed unto you. This pain you have caused me is also yours, your retaliation in the face of rejection, when all you wanted was love, so I shall bear it, for both of us. Allow me me hold your hand, and tell you how sorry I am for pushing you away all these years."
My dear friend, I entreat you not to turn your trenchant blade upon my body, but against the many trials I anticipate lay ahead. This is a relationship that must be mended with time, and I still have my usual foibles and foul days, but the path of healing is not traversed in a single bound. Wish me luck, my friend. I strive, from here on out, to make reparations, and become someone who can reflect upon their own mistakes, reserving judgments, and forgive.
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