Self-inflicted war

The most damaging wars are the ones we fight with ourselves. When our mind transforms into a battlefield and our heart becomes a no-go zone. It’s like we’re torn between shooting emotions, bombarded with sentiments. We’re ripped between reasons, opinions, and facts. And that is the moment where we lose all sense of what is right and what is wrong. It is in that little time space where either everything makes perfect sense or the things that did make sense become undecipherable. We become so captivated in our own thoughts that everything happening just seems like a blur. In that instance what should we trust- our instincts, gut, heart or that tiny slit in our brain magnifying every possible threat there is to existence.

But why is it that this war we’re fighting is leading us nowhere?
Why is it so hard to understand that this self-damage is incurable? 

Maybe because we’re already destroyed, that no damage can cause us more pain then what we’ve been through. Like we’re about to explode. These are the types of sparks that cause flames within. But in that case, which fire should we put out first. The one inside of us or the one outside.

Wars are never easy to fight. Because they sketch their marks all over. Whether they’re fought on land or inside our head. But
I guess we’re all soldiers placed in different battlefields with different weapons.

The worst part is that I’m unprepared for this war and I’m scared. If I don’t have an enemy then why does everything around me feel like a threat? I have no weapons yet here I am fighting with my bare hands.

Will I win?
Do I deserve to win?
Why does failing feel like a better option? Maybe because I’m afraid to rise. I’m afraid of whatever awaits on the other end of the battlefield. What if it’s a bigger storm, a bigger war, a bigger threat?

But just because you didn’t win doesn’t mean you lost. Why can’t you just be in the middle? Establish a cease-fire and maybe stay there. I’m not saying that losing is good but why does it have to be so bad.

Sometimes threat does not come to me holding a sword. She comes to me with a pretty smile, draped in poisonous flowers that smell like Eden. She comes to me holding a mirror, and the threat I see looks exactly like me. And that is the moment where I don’t know what to do. Attack myself? Or wait for her to attack me? Either way the outcome will leave me damaged and there is nothing I can do.

It’s like I have no choice. Is the war worth fighting? Is it better to be safe and lose; or win and be completely broken? Why does victory have to come dressed in blood? Why can’t it shine like the first light of day?