love
Am I incapable of loving? After all, it is only when one has learned to love oneself can one truly love others. It seems that I have yet to traverse a long and rocky path before reaching a point where I can truly say that I love myself.
It is not that I depise myself, but I do not see any importance for my being either. I know that others consider me important, and I know that many rely on me. But with that knowledge, I gain not love for myself, but only confidence. The most wicked kind of confidence, as the absence of love allows so. Confidence in, but the lack of love and appreciation for my own abilities. This eventually leads to the wavering of confidence in the aspect of being loved: whoever could find something in me that they could love when even I could find nothing, no matter how diligent I may search. In this doubt, a final result, which is the apparent inability to love others, arises. A dilemma with which I can seem to find no way out. A problem which brings me to tears as I fall to sleep wishing I would not wake up the next day. My slow and painful death with which prayers of someone who will save me from the unknown root of my sadness seem to go unnoticed.