I shake and fidget as my vision goes blurry
As this deep fear of everlasting pain rises within me
I feel as if I shall always be alone
And that hell will be my eternal home
I hate everything I am and all I’ve become
So how could anyone love this slum ?
Should I try? Or allow myself to fall.
I wasn’t meant to be on this earth at all…
No one understands how deep self hate goes.
And that it’s endless and for years, has forever flown.
“Liking” yourself is never a possibility
When despising yourself is your harmony.
The blood stain is what forever follows me.
acoustic, singer-songwriter, emotional, raw personal, simple yet powerful vocal, guitar arrangement, piano arrangement, intense emotions, introspective, minimalist production, emotional depth, intimate performance, melancholic tone
Lena sat in the corner of her dimly lit room, the only light coming from the flickering candle on the windowsill. She was twenty, with dark brunette hair that fell in loose waves around her face, a face that bore the weight of too many sleepless nights and too many thoughts that refused to be silenced. The walls around her were bare, except for a single mirror that she avoided looking into. It wasn’t the reflection she feared, but the thoughts it triggered — thoughts that had become her constant companions.
She had spent years trying to fit in, trying to be the version of herself that others expected. But no matter how hard she tried, she felt as if she was always falling short, as if she was constantly failing at being someone worth loving. The feelings of inadequacy had started as a faint whisper, but over time, they grew louder, drowning out any semblance of self-worth she might have had.
The nights were the worst. When the world went quiet, her mind would erupt in a cacophony of doubts, regrets, and self-loathing. Tonight was no different. She sat cross-legged on the floor, her hands shaking as she clutched a small notebook—her journal. It was worn, the pages filled with the same thoughts, the same words repeated over and over.
As she opened it, she glanced at the date written at the top of the page. She wrote in a shaky hand:
“I shake and fidget as my vision goes blurry. The deep fear of everlasting pain rises within me, choking me, suffocating me. I feel as if I shall always be alone, and that hell will be my eternal home. I hate everything I am and all I’ve become. How could anyone love this slum?”
She paused, feeling the familiar sting of tears that never seemed to fully come. Crying felt like a release she didn’t deserve, a vulnerability she couldn’t afford. The words on the page stared back at her, a mirror of the thoughts she couldn’t escape.
“Should I try?” she whispered to the empty room. “Or allow myself to fall? I wasn’t meant to be on this earth at all…”
Lena closed the journal, pressing it against her chest as if trying to absorb the pain within its pages. She had thought about leaving this world more times than she cared to admit, but something always held her back. Maybe it was the faint hope that someone, somewhere, could understand her, could love her despite the darkness she carried. But that hope was fleeting, buried under layers of self-hate.
She stood up, walking over to the mirror. For a moment, she dared to look at herself. The girl staring back was pale, with eyes that had lost their light. She studied her reflection, searching for something—anything—that she could hold on to. But all she saw was a girl who had failed, a girl who wasn’t enough.
“No one understands how deep self-hate goes,” she said to the reflection, her voice trembling. “And that it’s endless and for years, has forever flown. ‘Liking’ yourself is never a possibility when despising yourself is your harmony.”
She turned away from the mirror, unable to bear the sight any longer. Lena walked back to the window, gazing out at the night sky. The stars twinkled above, indifferent to the turmoil raging within her.
“The blood stain is what forever follows me,” she muttered, her hand tracing the faint scar on her wrist. It was an old wound, one that had healed physically but left a permanent mark on her soul. The memories of that night were hazy, but the emotions were sharp, like shards of glass embedded in her mind.
Lena sank to the floor, curling up against the wall. She felt so small, so insignificant, like a shadow that no one noticed. The weight of her thoughts pressed down on her, making it hard to breathe, hard to think of anything but the darkness.
But as she closed her eyes, something within her stirred. It wasn’t hope, not exactly, but a faint whisper, a voice that hadn’t been silenced yet. It told her to keep going, to hold on just a little longer.
Maybe, just maybe, tomorrow would be different. Maybe she would find a reason to keep trying, to keep living. The thought was fragile, like a single flame in the darkness, but it was enough to keep her from falling completely.
For now, that would have to be enough.
