"Love Thy Neighbor As Thyself"

But what if you don't love yourself...

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For the past 18 hours or so I have been through many horribly negative thoughts. Thoughts about my utter worthlessness as a being, my failure to love and serve others, my failure to forgive myself of weakness, my failure to accept help, my failure to choose humility over pride, my failure to care about anyone more than myself and my so called achievements, my failure to give the gifts and understanding I have been given over my own life to others. I am a failure in so many ways, and I am so tired of it. 

I do not love myself. I have never really loved myself. There have been great moments of relative peace. Moments in which I was happy and many in which I was grateful, but I have never really, truly, had absolute love for myself. It has always been with a sense of worthless grace that I accepted the gifts of my life, and because of this is has become in a sense, a curse. 

I hate myself regularly. I do all manner of harm to myself daily. I judge almost every action, every smile, every thought. To the point I am utterly without strength to continue being. I then, in desperation for a way out, pray for death. I pray deeply. Continually. Like you would not believe. It does not come. Instead I hear them tell me the truth, and it angers me more, because the truth is that I am failing to receive and walk in love and faith. I am failing the trials that I am under. I am weak inside, and I know it. I hang on a thread, and yet I am not yet finally dead. Temporally however, in these dark moments, I certainly and absolutely am. 

I do not understand why I have to suffer so much. So regularly too. I have been through this hell many times. I am tired of it. I am tired of my own weakness. I am tired of your having to read these words, whoever you are, and see the truth they reveal. I am weak and broken and perhaps selfishness is the reason. I have tried to serve. I have tried to give. I have been told I gave much, and I give much, but I feel so empty. So empty. I feel so in pain most of the time. It is only in moments that I do not look into the darkness that I feel free. Still then I am under this curse of perfection. How am I to be perfect, like he is perfect, when all I see is how far I am from it. How am I to forgive myself. How am I to find love for myself. I hate all of myself. I am tired of myself. I am utterly at war with myself. This is how it seems that it should be, but I do not understand why, and I become angry within at the one who makes it this way. "Deny thyself daily" - go to war with yourself. "Put away the old man" - war with self. "lest ye die and are born again" - I am dying. They shall seek death and not find it. I have done this. I have not found it. There is no way out of existence. Non existence is an impossible experience. I know being, existence, awareness, is an eternal experience. I am becoming less and less able to exist in a state worth being. A state of love and gratitude. More and more I face the darkness, as if I am responsible for it. Am I wrong in this? Perhaps so. Perhaps it is all pride, but I feel like my actions are meant to change the world. Maybe this is my ultimate prison.

I am so fucking tired of myself, but where else is there to go. I am a prisoner within what I am. Until I die, or find a reason to love myself, I am trapped within a hell of my own making. It is the ultimate sentance. The perfect justice. I love, admire, and hate it. It makes me so angry, sad, and I suppose it makes me laugh at the same time. 

So many people claim to love me. Literally hundreds have prayed for me and shown me kindness, thousands have supported me one way or another, but I feel like whoever they love is what they think me to be. Not actually me. Why do I feel like that? I feel like all the good that comes through me is God, but all the bad is me. Why do I identify with all the shit, all the rubbish, and none of the good? I don't understand it. 

"Some people think I am good"

I am not

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For the past 18 hours or so I have been through many horribly negative thoughts. Thoughts about my utter worthlessness as a being, my failure to love and serve others, my failure to forgive myself of weakness, my failure to accept help, my failure to choose humility over pride, my failure to care about anyone more than myself and my so called achievements, my failure to give the gifts and understanding I have been given over my own life to others. I am a failure in so many ways, and I am so tired of it. 

I do not love myself. I have never really loved myself. There have been great moments of relative peace. Moments in which I was happy and many in which I was grateful, but I have never really, truly, had absolute love for myself. It has always been with a sense of worthless grace that I accepted the gifts of my life, and because of this is has become in a sense, a curse. 

I hate myself regularly. I do all manner of harm to myself daily. I judge almost every action, every smile, every thought. To the point I am utterly without strength to continue being. I then, in desperation for a way out, pray for death. I pray deeply. Continually. Like you would not believe. It does not come. Instead I hear them tell me the truth, and it angers me more, because the truth is that I am failing to receive and walk in love and faith. I am failing the trials that I am under. I am weak inside, and I know it. I hang on a thread, and yet I am not yet finally dead. Temporally however, in these dark moments, I certainly and absolutely am. 

I do not understand why I have to suffer so much. So regularly too. I have been through this hell many times. I am tired of it. I am tired of my own weakness. I am tired of your having to read these words, whoever you are, and see the truth they reveal. I am weak and broken and perhaps selfishness is the reason. I have tried to serve. I have tried to give. I have been told I gave much, and I give much, but I feel so empty. So empty. I feel so in pain most of the time. It is only in moments that I do not look into the darkness that I feel free. Still then I am under this curse of perfection. How am I to be perfect, like he is perfect, when all I see is how far I am from it. How am I to forgive myself. How am I to find love for myself. I hate all of myself. I am tired of myself. I am utterly at war with myself. This is how it seems that it should be, but I do not understand why, and I become angry within at the one who makes it this way. "Deny thyself daily" - go to war with yourself. "Put away the old man" - war with self. "lest ye die and are born again" - I am dying. They shall seek death and not find it. I have done this. I have not found it. There is no way out of existence. Non existence is an impossible experience. I know being, existence, awareness, is an eternal experience. I am becoming less and less able to exist in a state worth being. A state of love and gratitude. More and more I face the darkness, as if I am responsible for it. Am I wrong in this? Perhaps so. Perhaps it is all pride, but I feel like my actions are meant to change the world. Maybe this is my ultimate prison.

I am so fucking tired of myself, but where else is there to go. I am a prisoner within what I am. Until I die, or find a reason to love myself, I am trapped within a hell of my own making. It is the ultimate sentance. The perfect justice. I love, admire, and hate it. It makes me so angry, sad, and I suppose it makes me laugh at the same time. 

So many people claim to love me. Literally hundreds have prayed for me and shown me kindness, thousands have supported me one way or another, but I feel like whoever they love is what they think me to be. Not actually me. Why do I feel like that? I feel like all the good that comes through me is God, but all the bad is me. Why do I identify with all the shit, all the rubbish, and none of the good? I don't understand it. 

"Some people think I am good"

I am not

I have done a lot of things in my life that people who know me think admirable. I have helped many people many different ways, so some people think I am good. They are wrong. I am not good. I am not something to be exalted or admired. I am not good. I do not want to say that I am bad, but I may very well be. I can say though, without doubt, that I am not good. If I were good, I would do no evil, ever. Sometimes, however much I hate it, I do evil. I do hate. I do judge. I do lie. I do think bad things. I do let bad things into my heart. I am therefore not good. Goodness does not do these things. God is goodness. I am angry at myself, and I do no know where to go to find peace from this anger. There is no where but forgiveness ultimately. No matter how hard I look for another way, destruction is the only other alternative. It is forgiveness or destruction. If I will not receive love, compassion, mercy, forgiveness, I will never be able to give it myself. I cannot forgive if I have never known forgiveness. I cannot know forgiveness if I have never admitted my faults. I have seen my faults, then made worse ones. I was one kind of evil, an ignorant kind, and I became worse, a knowing kind. One who knows that all his suffering is ultimately the product of his own mind, and yet still he judges. Still he hates. Still he is unkind to himself. This is who I am today. This is how I slowly torture myself, because I know little else. How is one to be kind if one has never known kindness. I am sad. I am sad beyond words. Inside is pain. I am tired of fighting that pain. Maybe I have to just sit with it and endure, because there is no way I see out now. 

Daniel

What am I afraid of? 

That I have given everything in vain. 

I am afraid that I gave up everything, only to be left with nothing, and to have benefitted no one. 

I am afraid that I will not come close to the purpose set out for me.

I am afraid that I will never know true love.

I am afraid that I will never truly be loved, nor will I ever truly be worthy of love. 

I am afraid that I cannot truly accept love. I am afraid that I will never be able to. 

I am afraid of being no good to the person I love romantically. I am afraid of never being valuable in that way again, as I was once perceived to be. The way this world is I am of little value today to many. I was once very valued by society, now I am among the least. I am afraid that it will remain that way all my life, and that I will not be able to endure it as I once thought that I could. 

I started thinking that I knew the truth, a truth that would protect me from man's judgements, but I am in pain. It is woman, one woman in particular, that I cannot endure the judgement of. It is not that she judges me, but that she does not see the value in me. It is that I am now weak, because I do not look strong. Perhaps because I am, inherently, weak. In truth, I am. Yet I know the things I have seen, the things that I have been through. I do know the pain I suffered. I do know few have walked that fire and come out in this world. I do know. Yet I still cannot forgive myself for being as weak as I am. There is an idea in my mind of perfection, of one who walks perfectly through the pain without falling down. I am not it. I am fallen. I am weak. My faith is broken. My heart is hurting. I am not OK, and the people who look into my eyes can see it. I hate that, and I hate that I am too weak to accept that. Too weak to let myself be weak. Too weak to stop hiding behind feigned strength. These words, empty though they may seem, are my way of being honest with myself. Someone out there faking strength in whatever world they live may too be in the same prison, and I hope they feel thus that they are not alone. I am here too. We are here together. This shit sucks. I don't know the way out, but it starts with prayer and forgiveness. There is no other way. Judgment, hatred, self pity, condemnation, these things will only destroy. Love, compassion, understanding, honesty, forgiveness. Only these things can bring us to life. 

"Your servant David"

The Abyss

Why am I doing this. 

I don't know. I don't know sometimes. I feel so lost. I feel so wrong. So pointless. I feel like my ego dreamed up a perfect act that is never going to come. A moment of "it is finished", which is so much further away than I thought. Had I known this suffering wwould await me on the other side of my walk toward God, I most certainly would never have started it. 

A kingdom of heaven was the promise. A truth, a peace, a bliss. Not this. This is hell. This is emptiness. This is pain. This is suffering. 

I know. Heaven, if you are not already there, must be on the other side of hell. Still, I am in profound pain and darkness. I do not understand why. I want to be free, and I am the prison, so how can I be. I do not love myself. I do not have a way to loving myself. I feel so beyond worthless in myself. I want to die. It is easy to die. I am tired God. I am so tired of this fight. I pray that you would win, that you would take all of my will and make it your own, yet still here in pain I am sitting. Why don't you strengthen me? Why don't you pick me up from the darkness. What is the point of all this suffering, of all this pain. These empty words, like please of pity to myself, I am less than a man and I know it. I do not know how to be better than I am, and I want freedom therefore from the call, or the ability to answer. Neither can come from myself. It must be you. I pray, but where is the answer. I am breaking. I am tired. I am dying. 

I see all around me the beauty I don't have. I hear within me the voice of fear and hate. Of judgement. I hear the fear of what I lost, what I shall never have or know. I hear the condemnation for my failure. I hear the lacking of my soul in strength and will. I fear that I will never be one who knows the warmth beside this cold. I am doomed to watch from afar the loved ones kiss. To remember one of my own, the most important of my life, and how directly after it she told me to "forget that". The only one I have ever felt that way, the one which tore my heart, to "forget it". "That was a mistake". "I should not have done that". Because I told her I loved her. 

Am I worthy of love? Do I seek your pity? I know that I do not, but I hear it from someone, and from others the judgement of weakness. A man torn between the two, is there compassion for him. Has he compassion for himself, or only pain. I do not see myself in a way of love. I am lost inside the feelings I project upon other souls. I see them how I see myself. I hurt because I cannot feel love in myself, so how can I imagine it to come from one of them. Yet I know, somewhere, it will. It does. Why. Why I ask. Why do you love me. What is there to love. I am not good. I am broken. I am tired. I need help, and who will come, and how would I accept them, when I am ashamed of myself. 

Faith is freedom,
Love the purpose.
Present begins without an end. 

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