The Pit of Despair
The darkness within
In the darkest part of my mind, there exists a black hole devoid of happiness. I think of it as a pit of despair, for that is what it feels when I fall in. And every so often I do fall, or rather I am pushed over the edge and am forced to climb my way back out.
I always remain at the edge of this pit, looking down at the darkness, hoping that I don’t fall in again. But there is always something that tips my weight just the slightest in that direction, sending me down into the dark abyss. The tiniest nudge and I fall, my fragile mental state always ready to break.
It’s been this way for a few years now. I don’t know why or what created this pit, though I have my suspicions. Perhaps it was my childhood, always over-criticized and never good enough. From the teacher who repeatedly tried to correct the way I hold a pencil to the dental hygienist who kept telling me I wasn’t allowed to switch hands while brushing to my critical father who did not know how to love his own children.
I feel that the dark pit has always existed, perhaps a genetic defect that pushed other members of my family to drugs, alcohol, and murder. The darkness has grown over the years, becoming more prominent within my mind, waiting to consume me. I fight the rage within, keeping it held back over the years until it turned to fear. I avoided…
