Et tu, Brute?

When you are falling in an abyss of self loathing, the darkest epiphanies crawl beside you wreaking havoc upon everything you have created. Betrayed and thwarted by the world at large, you struggle to breathe,  simultaneously marveling at your own foolishness to fall in the same trap you created. Your past is negated by your present and what remains is an ashen future, obscure and meaningless. That slit upon your wrist seems a genuine way out of this pandemonium but bonds of suffering are never so easy to break. The darkest hour is no longer a fantasy but a surreal reality, painful and torturous, the masochist in me is quite proud, the human feels quite aborted though. I was not always like this though. I reveled in the reverie called life, i worshiped joy and happiness and sought it eagerly, hungrily waiting for moments that would inexorably lead to several infused smiles within my heart. Clearly all that is no more, annihilated by forces i failed to foresee, i was subjected to wave upon wave of pure unrelenting pain in mere moments. I had sought to bridge destinies but my own destiny is now hazy, shards of glass and broken,multiple distorted images.I should have known better, Fallen roses are seldom picked up. Several times i have stood against odds unfathomable to most men and i have survived, but odds against life are no longer what i battle but rather the inner, parasitic hollowness of mine. I mayn't have fallen so hard had it not been for the the fact that i trusted too much while journeying through the jungles of my personal nadir. The reasons of my fall are both inanimate and animate, and it is this animate which makes atonement all the more arduous. I may have been called a number of things but not foolish, now i seem to have lost that remaining chunk of respect too. I am now officially foolish. Go on, dear world, make the most of it, devour me completely; while i am still down.