MY DARK HOUR

Tell me, what is so wrong with me that I am not worthy of love?My soul is so deeply conflicted. I ache for approval from the people who are supposed to already love me. I have this heavy, stone-like feeling in my throat, a constant pain in my head, and a heart that throbs with sorrow in my chest. The noise in my mind is deafening. I am filled with so many questions—for myself, for others—but I am met with only silence. I know it’s okay to feel bad sometimes, but for me, it’s every single day, and it’s crushing.My mother says she loves me, and in rare moments, her actions show a glimpse of that truth. But most days, her words carve into me. She reminds me what a failure I am, how useless, what a disappointment she gave birth to. You’d think after a lifetime of insults—even hearing her say she’d kill me—I’d be numb to it. But I’m not. The pain only grows. Maybe she loves me but cannot show it. Or maybe… maybe she doesn’t. What if I was a mistake? What if…I never let myself think much about my father. I told myself I didn’t need him. But now, this lonely ache tells me I do. I need to ask him why he left. Why he seemed to hate me so much he couldn’t bear to stay in touch. Why he and my mother look at me with such disdain—because I know in my heart it’s not just an “attitude.” The people I called family have made me feel invisible. Worthless. It has shattered me completely. I am a broken disaster, and in my darkest hours, I wish I had never been born.I have so many questions for God, but my faith is taught to be silent, not to question. And with every passing day, that faith withers. I hate what I’m becoming. I lie. I snap at people. I am arrogant. I see myself as fat and ugly, and that truth feels permanent. I feel stuck. I don’t know what to do.I go shopping, and nothing fits. I have no self-control. My bad habits cling to me. I feel like a problem without a solution, a person without a purpose. I break down over the smallest things, like being handed chores. It’s not that I won’t do them—it’s that I am so tired. Tired of this constant sadness and anger that lives inside me. I have lost myself. The things I once loved no longer bring me joy. I don’t want to do them anymore.It is utterly exhausting to be human. We’re all living on borrowed, invisible time, not knowing when it ends. That terror is so much louder when you feel completely alone. It feels like no one truly cares unless they get something from you. I hate all of this. I hate that I resent taking care of my siblings. I hate that I lash out at my mother only to silently swallow her cruel words afterward. I hate my constant tears. I hate that I find comfort only in solitude. I hate the body I’m in. I just hate my life. I am desperate for this weight to lift. More than anything, I wish it could just be me and my mom… the way it was supposed to be.