The Alien In Me.

Like a fatalistic pit, I see a hole forming in the heart. There are fragments of ugliness and of scarred words. Is the hole black? No! Sadly, it projects no colour, no hue. It is impassive and stoic. It doesn't respond to emotions, to love and gladness, to aggression and pain. It lacks each one of them. And in the process of recovering from the jolt of revelation, the mind doodles various patterns of the ever most random questions and doubts. I am absolutely horrified the way it is engulfing me in a lethal trap of mistakes, wrong decisions, and dominant anger. And the worst part, I cannot pull myself out of it. Out of the unwanted part which I am afraid, might swallow all of me.

Because I have this strong feeling pertaining to ignorance. Because I don’t know how the alien incepted. And I am blinded because I did not witness the incessant growth of the hole.

Tell me that it is a hoax. That it doesn't own perpetuity.

Because perhaps it intricately concatenates the girl I thought I am and the girl I actually am. Or perhaps the drawbridge is weakening as the impassiveness hikes. The beliefs I proudly caressed are being shadowed, like they never belonged to me. And I am scared. I am scared of what I am turning into.

I have never felt this vulnerable. The road was always clear and unambiguous. There was no blurry or misty vision which could divert me from knowing myself, from introspection. I knew what my heart had to say. The morals it had on which every block of decision was kept were distinct in my mind. Every little belief was due to the awareness of who I am and what I seek.

Have I depreciated? Maybe. This ignorant girl doesn’t have an answer. There is a lot of sadness which I could have resisted. I know. It’s just that I could have however I did not. I could have not acted or behaved the way I did. I could have been more considerate. I know I could have however I did not.

And what it seems now is that yes, this is a gradual process of depreciating. That it is but the time and the situation mirroring the real image I never knew I owned. The efforts, I fear, are going in vain. I fear seeing myself within the walls concocted of repentance, of undying regret, and of sabotaging hatred for not being able to lift myself to the level of righteousness. I fear the fatalistic pit. I fear this novel part of me, the alien, which is emerging. And yes, this time, I do...I do fear me.
____________

Picture source: deviantart