And Why I Keep Going Back

The words echo relentlessly in my head.

Another night with my eyes open, staring at the ceiling fan, listening to the endless rhythm. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. In the darkness, a warm breeze washes over me, but it brings no comfort. It only makes me more aware of how awake I am, how trapped I am.

The Vault Keeps Opening

My thoughts ricochet through every secret chamber of my mind, vaults creaking open one by one. Each wound is rediscovered. Each memory is dragged out from some hidden file I have tried to bury. I am digging myself up, slowly, unwillingly.

The seconds and minutes tick by while I keep staring at the clock, unable to slow down or speed up time. I am stuck, suspended in this darkness, this abyss, this hole that I have carved out for myself and now desperately try to climb out of.

Yet with every passing second, every minute, every hour, I doubt every decision I have ever made. I backtrack on every word I have ever said. I replay every action, every micro-movement, searching for where I went wrong. It does not help. The terrible thoughts do not subside. They build, layer upon layer.

In the dark, I draft new realities for myself, alternate lives, alternate endings. None of them feel better. I just keep expanding this world I have created, this prison of my own design, the one I cannot, or will not, leave.

Comfortable in My Own Discontent

I know it is all in my head. I know, in theory, I could make it end. But maybe I am comfortable in the hell I have built.

Maybe I am content in my discontent.

I have been living with the shadows from my past for so long that they have become familiar, almost like companions. Each shadow streaks across the wall at night, cast by the streetlight slipping through the gap in the curtains. They dance there, and in them, I see my history burned into the surface of my present.

Sometimes it feels like I can see into my future too, but it does not look very bright.

Afraid of the Light

When I do manage to leave my room, it is only for a moment. I step out into the light, into the noise, into the possibility, only to slip back into my darkness again, as if pulled by gravity. I have created hell for myself, and yet it is my own hell that I live in, because that is where I am most comfortable. Out there, in the light, I feel exposed. In here, I only feel haunted.

I refuse to reach out into the light, because I am afraid the light will burn me once more. Every attempt has ended in failure. Every failure has poured more pain into me. Every new dose of pain pushes me deeper into the shadows.

I am afraid to step out. I am afraid of what might happen if I succeed.

Every time I have tried to climb, to change, to improve, it has unfolded into another disappointment. So in my mind, there has been no real success. Or if there was, it was temporary, a brief high before the inevitable fall. Each time I feel proud of myself, it becomes a slap in the face because I know it will not last.

Chasing Happiness Like a Prize

Every bit of freedom, every hint of happiness, I seem to chase away from myself. I do not know what it means to truly be happy. I chase happiness like it is a gold medal. I chase it like a prize.

But deep inside, I know this is not a race, and my memories are not something I can simply erase.

I feel like an empty shell in the dark, a hollow vessel that my mind just happens to live in. A body I have neglected. A mind I have shattered. I am not proud of who I am, not proud of what I have become. The depths of my self-hatred seem bottomless, and no matter how far I try to climb, I end up discovering new layers of it.

I cannot escape. I am forever in the darkness of my own mind.

Black and White, Never Gray

Even when I stand before the most beautiful sunrise, the most magnificent mountains, the most winding, inviting roads, the most delicate flowers, even when I stand beneath an incredible golden sunset in the perfect golden hour, I see it all in black and white.

Success or failure. Night or day. All or nothing.

I do not know how to live in the gray. I only know the darkness of my soul, the darkness of my mind. No matter how far I run, no matter how fast I run, no matter how much I exhaust myself in an attempt to get away from it all, the darkness, the shadows, always catch up with me.

They are consistent. They appear in the morning, at night, at midnight. Every time I close my eyes, I fall, not into rest, but into deeper hell, deeper darkness.

No matter what I do, I cannot see the light.

So I ask myself. What am I doing? Where am I going? Is this all worth it?

Is this the life that I want? Is this life at all, this constant upheaval of disappointments, failures, betrayals? What else is there?

Waiting for Happiness to Find Me

If there is such a thing as true happiness, I have yet to find it. Every door I open, every new idea I have, every morning I wake up and whisper to myself, this time I can do it, it crumbles when I realize I cannot move. I cannot step forward. I cannot reach that state of simple, quiet contentment.

I do not even force myself anymore. I sit. I wait for happiness to find me.

I know that is wrong. I know, logically, that it is up to me. No one is coming to save me. But I feel too deep in it now. Too deep in the pit, too far into the vault.

I make promises to myself. I will try. I will change. I will succeed. And I break every single one.

The Higher I Climb

Sometimes I do succeed. On paper. In the eyes of others. I climb a little higher. I achieve something. But it brings me no joy. Every step I take up this mountain, the only real change is my perspective. I see more, more of the world, more of myself, and with that comes a clearer view of my failures.

The higher I get, the more opportunity there is to fall. The higher I get, the more I put myself on a pedestal that does not even exist. The higher I get, the more alone I feel.

From up high, I see the ambition in every individual, stripped down to its raw components: success, recognition, ego, money. I see sunrises and sunsets. I see valleys below, full of people running around, living their ordinary, busy lives. I watch them move, working, loving, laughing, rushing, resting, and all I can think is they do not see me. I am just a speck of dust.

A Speck of Dust in a Loud World

A speck of dust in a dark, devolving, lonely world.

So what do I live for? What do we suffer for? In the end, we all end up in darkness.

My soul no longer feels. My heart no longer knows how to give. My mind feels like it can no longer think, at least not in a way that frees me.

There is nothing out there, it seems, but empty space and darkness. Empty space in a world full of billions of people, full of lights, full of sound, birds chirping, dogs barking, airplanes roaring overhead, cars passing by, screens glowing, voices overlapping.

And yet, in my mind, all I hear is silence. Silence, with my own thoughts echoing back at me.

Maybe One Day

One day, maybe, I might escape. Maybe one day I will find the key to this vault and finally push the door open. Maybe one day the light will not burn.

But today is not that day. For now, the only company I keep is darkness and myself.

If any part of this finds you at your own 3 am, you are not as alone in it as it feels. Drop a comment below and tell me what your version of the vault looks like.