Decay
"Decay"
I'd hug the word!
The sound of it resembles the process itself; decay /dɪˈkeɪ/ starting with a well-possessed sound, little by little, it fades away, just like you.
You try to keep yourself composed to then fall gradually and slowly to your so-familiar demise.
Things, people, you decay once not attended to.
That you understand, don't you?
You do.
It's not a lack of assimilation that's preventing you from giving yourself some consideration, is it?
It's fear. It's fear, terror I'd say.
You are petrified of what will meet you if you ever catered to your needs.
It is unfathomably strong.
So, you decay to escape what you can not pinpoint, but only feel the burden of from afar.
It's even hard to think of what it is.
Your newly installed protective devices would intervene at the slightest attention drawn to it.
So, it is exhausting to think about it and even more so to determine what it is at last.
Could it be responsibility, pressure?
You suspected that a while ago, but it seemed so absurd.
It can be the cause, the much sought after cause but not in your case, no.
Oh! How intricate and overwhelming are my devices.
Yes, they are because I put into words the undeniable clue to a potential cause a few seconds ago, and they intervened right away!
" feel the burden of from afar." Well, they never allow you to get close.
Burden, responsibility, pressure, it all makes sense, I write.
Although my devices are working so well, I bet I didn't process this last line at all, and I will not, at least not anytime soon.
How obnoxious of me to think that I am strained, or to weather away solely not to face responsibility.
Should I sympathise with myself instead?
I don't know.
Again, I am not capable of caring for myself.
I am used to this now.
Such an attitude is a second contender. It might be the cause behind this.
It might be how accustomed I am to a melancholic demeanour now.
I forgot the other way of living.
My conduct, thoughts, and feelings are all by default faulty.
So, I write about this in such a tone as if it is an analysis, an assignment.
I could try to inspect why I got here or plan what to do.
However, I did that many times prior, and I don't want to.
Doing nothing seems the most appropriate.
Anything else would be either deceiving or pathetic.
Ps: you talk to yourself as a stranger lately, far removed, detached and desolate.
Ps: Apparently, the cause was one you buried deep down, one you denied because you are so hard on yourself. It's unbelievable. All you needed was to ask for help. You couldn't have done it all alone, and for help, you asked!
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