Good out of weakness. Strict normative principles so as to control the world. A moral absolutist so as not to get hurt. Actions not adhering to, not possible to adhere to, such strict moral principles. Hurt inevitably following.

Afraid to live. Ashamed to love. Each breath self-reflective. Critical. Analytical. Simply not comfortable in my own skin.

Each cell of the body awash in nervous energy. Anxious vibrations. Always, always on guard. Even asleep. Especially, in my sleep.

For I do constant battle with my demons.

Guilty. That I am a sinner.

Dirty. That I am impure.

Unworthy. That I will be abandoned.

Envious. That I am lacking.

Anxious. That catastrophe strikes the unwary.

And yet, compassion. For myself. For others. Compassion for my demons. Thirty-six years and I have yet to win a battle. I am done battling.

In compassion there is hope.

In hope, salvation.

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