Depressing epidural

It about someone who has alot of trama and multiple depression

I Hate me

I hate the way my past
shows up without warning,
like a storm breaking open
inside my chest.

I hate how my heart aches
when the memories return —
how my own mind turns against me,
playing scenes I never wanted,
and my body is the one
left shaking with the pain.


I hate that so much damage
happened when I was still a child,
and it lives in me
like a bruise that never fades.

I hate that I blame myself,
like somehow I caused it,
like I’m the problem
I can’t escape.

I hate that I still reach
for closeness
even when it scares me —
how a little attention
can feel like a promise
I fall into too fast.

I hate that there are parts of me
I can’t get back,
no matter how much I wish.

I hate the habits I ran to —
screens and fantasies
that numbed everything —
and how they leave me feeling
emptier than before.

I hate that the harm
someone else caused
still lives under my skin,
and I carry the shame
that was never mine.

I hate my reflection,
the way I turn on my own body,
as if it’s the enemy
instead of the one
that survived.

I hate that I hate myself.

And yet —
underneath all that darkness,
a small voice keeps whispering:
you were hurt,
not ruined.


You deserve gentleness,
time,
and a way forward —
even if today
feels like night.