paradox of strength

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: November 28, 2017

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Submitted: November 28, 2017

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I am not doing this because I am weak. I am doing this because I need to prove to myself (and to her) that I am strong. I need to remind myself what I am capable of. I need to remind myself that I am in control. But most of all, I need to show her that she cannot control me.

 

Do you see the paradox? The forced laughter that bubbles up through my nonsensical words? I am strong, you see, because I resist; yet the more I resist, the more my strength wanes. I waste away, crumble to pieces like a paper sail in a thunderstorm.

 

It is a fitting outcome, really. I don’t have the strength to put a bullet in my head or swallow one too many pills. I am weak in body. But I am strong in spirit. I am so strong that I will resist it all, until she notices. I want her to feel pain, guilt, sorrow. I want her to realize that it is her fault, that it is because of her that I am this way.

 

She keeps trying to sink her claws into my flesh, trying to wrestle my autonomy out from beneath my weary feet, and I struggle, desperately, in vain. This is the time when I want to give up the most: when my stomach is growling and she is crying and the sounds of cars twenty miles away rain down like thunder upon my eardrums. But this is also the time when it is most important that I resist. If I make it past this moment, and I ignore the pain, the hunger, the guilt, the deafening noise, I will at last see this miserable journey through. I will be complete, yet at the same time starting anew.

 


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