Honestly... it felt calming coming up with that paragraph. I felt a sudden relief all of a sudden... Could it because I could finally express everything?

I'll never know... So I decided to continue and make it more full.

I'm not sure if I'm gonna regret it.

You will.

Or if I'll feel even worse from this...

YOU WILL.

But I'm gonna try.

Eventually, everything in me, my egregious behaviour, the fragments of my despair, all my debilities, will all emerge and flee from my body. Clearly, all my efforts will be futile. This figment will be emancipated, like an embellishment, for the whole world to see. It will foment my life, dominate me, dictate my mind, and it will desolate me. I won't be deserted but I will be haunted by it. It won't assail me directly. But it will banter me constantly. It will always be adamant - ensuring that it takes over me. I'll feel baffled, wondering how that thing was adroit in mocking me. How that thing would always foment me during random times.

It is apparent that I'll never be able to ameliorate from this illness. No matter how much I try. Everyone will abhor me, everyone will abandon me. I will forever be a heinous person, too abashed to face this harsh reality. I am conscious about this though. I know and recognise all of these emotions in me, but I can't seem to broach my emotions to anyone. I contemplate all the time, wondering how I can convey these emotions to anyone. But I can't. I'm scared that this side of me demonstrate my coward side. I'm scared that my fears and insecurities will depict who I am.

I can't extricate myself from these gnarled hands...

Translation...

Sooner or later, everything in me, my conspicuously bad behaviour, the wreckage of my despair, all of my weaknesses, will all appear and escape from my body. Without a doubt, all my efforts will be futile. This imagined thing will be set free, like a decoration, for the whole world to see. It will provoke my life, overshadow me, order my mind, and it will make me feel gloomy. I won't be in solitary but I will be haunted by it. It won't attack me directly. But it will tease me all the time. I'll feel confused, wondering how that thing was skillful in mocking me. How that thing would always provoke me during random times.

It is that I'll never be able to improve from this illness. No matter how much I try. Everyone will hate me. Everyone will leave me behind. I will forever be a terrible person, too ashamed to face this harsh reality. I am aware about this though

I can't disentangle myself from these contorted hands...

And I can't do it anymore.