Wicked contingencies propagate themselves through my mind. I struggle to know and walk steadfastly in the truth when the denigration I receive cuts through my being and tortures me to no end. Sabotaged and betrayed on all sides: untrusting, as everyone I care for slips away.
Is it possible to be humble without being self-deprecating, and how can I love myself when all I know is sin and self-loathing?
Yet evidently if you are to be loved, you must first love yourself. Isn’t that a conundrum? Perhaps that aphorism is the reason for my constant rejection and isolation.
A butterfly clothed with the darkness becomes a moth, never to transcend back to its initial luster.
Yet through the pain I remain cognizant of that with which I’ve been blessed. Beyond measure—I have no reason for complaint, yet constant unfulfillment and crippling loneliness overcome any joyous sensation.
Luminance fades and radiance disintegrates into dust as my visage drops upon the realization of my destiny. The hope I once had is gone and only crushing reality remains.
The bittersweet comfort of warm tears hugging my face is the only solace I feel as the core of my being is awoken to the vapidity of my existence.

These are the incoherent ramblings of a desolate man.