I have a curse, and it will plague me for the rest of my life.
I am substantially insecure of myself, so much so that it affects everything about my life. I am always unsure about what I do, always fearful of being wrong, embarrassed, or thought little of. When at it's best, my insecurity never fails to get the best of me, making certain I feel absolutely the littlest regard for myself. All such feelings only negated and countered when my other perfect flaw, Anger, is stirred and awoken. That's when I feel my best. That's when I know I can do anything. That's when I believe that I have worth and significance just as everyone else - or even more than they do. Otherwise, I'm inexplicably unhappy or feeling totally worthless.
I'm almost certain to be living out my pathetic existence forever seeking the approval of other people, approval that I should have been given in my formative years. Approval tha has been withheld or thought me undeserving.
And that's why I do not doubt misery as an inseparable companion in life. I will be miserable for as long as I live, imprisoned by a constant self-doubt, filled with anxiety and sadness. I will become a recluse, unable to invest emotion or pledge commitment. I will spend all the days that I have been given on this earth in solitude. And perhaps, that is how I shall be found when I am dead...alone -if ever I do get found, and if someone noticed my absence at all. But perhaps, before that even happens, I will have surrendered to the sorrow and hurled myself at some self-inflicted death I will have thought most fitting at that time, when that time comes.
