What is wrong with me?

What is wrong with me?

I ask that question a lot.

Its the question that keeps me awake at night.

The one that makes me so sad that I descend into a weeping, inconsolable mess.

The one that makes me so angry that i want to destroy something, that “something” usually being myself.

The question that will not stop budging. The one question that I have not found a concrete answer to. The question that has defined me for the last several years:

“What the fuck is wrong with me?”

Its not like I have not gotten answers. There have been answers aplenty. There are a lot of things that make me who I am and there are faults upon faults in my being but none of those answers satisfy. None of those answers make sense.

Since a long time, I have been struggling with this idea that I am either cursed, self destructive or just plain old bad in the most vague of manners and the question that I always come back to is: “Why?”.

Why do the things that happen to me continue to happen?

Why do I do things that continuously hurt me and those around me, knowing that this hurt will come?

Why is there so much pain? Why is there so much misery and, finally the most important question, why can I not stay happy?

Happiness.

What the hell is it anyways?

Is it a feeling? A momentary thing that will come and go at whim. Giving you small glimmers of life, hope and all the other miserable little reminders of how things can be better. Is it just that? A mirage that occasionally comes up to cover up the stupid, meaningless and painful reality that is general existence?

Is it that?

Or is happiness a state? A point of being that you can achieve. A place you can get to. A destination that can be arrived at. Something real. Something certain. The journey may be treacherous. The path may be long and winding but there is a point that you can get to. There is a good chance that you may never reach that point but if the goal is real then you can try to get to it. If there is something at the end of the rainbow then the trek towards it is meaningful and worthy even if it is something that may not be completed.

But,

What if it isn’t?

What if its the first thing? Something illusive. Then that trek is just wasteful. Then the proper path is either one of destructive nihilism or hedonistic exuberance. There is nothing there at the end. Just live, or choose not to, in what you have right now because that is all that you can do.

This brings me back to the question that I started with:

“What is wrong with me?”

I ask that question because there have been times that I have had what could be termed as moments of happiness. Real moments that I still treasure and cherish and then just like that, all of it slips away. A darkness clouds the mind and all that is beautiful just vanishes. All those memories that brought happiness now taunt me. Mock me. Snare at me and tell me how I did not deserve any of them. That I had cheated my way into them. Tell me of how my life does not matter and how my existence is a pain in the life of those around me.

Pretty normal stuff, right.

Then come the actions, blinded by this miasma of despair, anger and just plain old hate I do something. Something usually normal if done by most other people but which becomes evil, sadistic or self serving (depending on the specific case) because of the intent behind it.

I do that and then lash out at the world. Hurting it, blinding it and inflicting my own misery at it. That is what I do.

Then I come to the part where I realize what I have done and the blame starts. The blame, the hurt the self hate. All of that. I weep tears of regret and promise to never do it again. Bind myself with vows all the while knowing that these are meaningless. That these have all happened before and nothing is gonna change. I will still be the same. The cycle will repeat and I will just do it again.

Then I ask myself that question:

“What the fuck is wrong with me?”

Why do I do this?

Time and again. One after the other.

Why do I do this?

Is it sadism? Narcissism? Just plain old cruelty? Some form of sociopathic behaviour?

I don’t know.

What is wrong with me?

If you understand, let me know.