Self, Loathed

I fear 

          myself, 

          impending loss, 

          massive change... 

I am lost...don't know myself, 

   don't trust myself. 

I fear my sexual expression, 

    my creative expressions 

     through words and food - 

        my love of food. 

My zest for life itself cowers under the hovering cloud of bad choices. 

I fear, I fear

I fear hurting the ones I love

Again

More

Still

I am a crumpled-up paper towel...stiff, but formless - 

used, but not for any great purpose. 

I've achieved all I ever wanted to, and then my gluttony turned rancid and I've tainted it all. 

But what more should I dream of, than the beauty I've already built, nurtured, achieved? 

What more do I deserve? 

At this point - 

Nothing. 

I deserve nothing. 

Nothing good, at least. 

Pain and anguish and despair? 

Yes. 

I've earned those. 

Pile them on, as is my due. 

And then, what? 

What next? 

When do I start to dream again? Of the joys and passions and beautiful things?