The Shortest Tales: Horror

Self Awareness

I am trapped, confined to my prison of my own creation. Yet, part of me knows it isn't my fault, it's simply my circumstances. I am forced to be alone, everything I do is inside my room. Work, college, socialization, entertainment, all of it. There are moments where I am able to step into the outside world, be with friends, however these instances are sparse.

I have become deprived of social interaction, which for someone like myself, is detrimental. Above all else, I value friendships, relationships. And yet, this deprivation has led to a sense of desperation. I seek alternative methods for interaction, to create said friendships, through online ways. But what comes of it is unexpected. I cling to those new relationships, as if they're all I have. Such desperation has finally shown itself to me, and I am extremely saddened by its presence.

A lack of being loved, cared for, has given way to a monster that festers inside of me. It claws and scratches at my soul, each slash deepening my feelings of sadness. I know such emotions are only temporary, that my situation will eventually change in several months, yet in the moment, it feels as though I am breaking.

The curse of self awareness is that you see your faults, the qualities you don't want to have, and there is little you can do. You only have the eyes to see them, to hate them, to curse them, pushing the desperation, the sadness, the despair even further. The need for these relationships, to be close to someone, is often one sided. Not to say that the other doesn't reciprocate said feelings, but one side is always stronger.

Inevitably, these qualities will push away the people I'm close to, as they always have. Perhaps it will be my persistence at wanting to chat, or the want to spend more and more time with them, but one thing is sure, it will end because of me, it will be my failure. The closer I get with an individual, the more I care, which is obviously normal, yet I escalate my feelings too quickly. This loneliness that surrounds me only emphasizes this ideal further.

I can try to quell my feelings, to silence them before they consume me, but that only leads to more self hatred. Perhaps doing so is better than the alternative. Perhaps it's better to hate yourself so that others don't have to deal with your problems. Maybe it's better to become sour, cold like stone. Silence the emotions, push them down into the darkness, hide it from view.

Yes, it must be better to turn yourself into rock than have others face the consequences of your inherent need to be wanted, to be loved. It's better to break yourself rather than make more problems for others. After all, I am a single person in a sea of people, why should someone care about me? It's selfish to think otherwise.