I don't know what caused my weakness. Maybe this weakness existed forever or maybe my misery made me like this. I keep sharing my soul and feelings with the one who pulls me into darkness, who does not wish me well, who stabs me with sharp poisonous pins. It's like I enter a black cloud of endless accusations every time. Every little thing, even the most innocent human emotion is being turned into something quite different. I'm suffocating in this cloud, I feel that I betray my own being, myself. And I don't try to escape from  these virulent fumes. In comparison with everything else it's only a small thing and doesn't change anything, but I'm choking with those black clubs of  venomous thoughts and feelings covering me, with my own hands I cut the weak shoots of hope and faith (even though ungrounded) in my heart.
Most likely along with so much else it doesn't matter anymore.
But something inside me warns.