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I will not allow myself to be happy.
I will find a way to keep myself from being happy.
I don't see that I deserve this life.
and I do not believe in anything.

I have no mission.
I have no desire.
I have no drive.
I am nothing
but a waste of space.

I am prisoner of my own hell
Of my own choosing.

Anger used to be my fuel.
I was energized from it.
I thought that I was living.
I was only a danger to myself.
I had nothing to offer anyone except pain.

Now I am feeling compelled to once again
use that power to fuel me to start by getting
this wreck of a body back in shape to be able
to defend once again.

Just writing these words are making me feel
the old familiar power coursing through my veins.
It makes me grin my mischievous grin.