Pendulum

In regards to life, I've come to view it with a simple and yet effective metaphor that appiles to myself, that of a pendulum. When the pendulum is still, I am in a state of stagnation, unable to feel good or terribly bad of myself, but rarely a peaceful kind of stasis. It is often instead time of brooding and reflection upon a grimy mirror. I can push this pendulum with eiter of my hands, the left indicating positivity, and the right negativity. And as I've experienced personally, whenever I push with my left hand, I push back reflexively with my right, returning this pendulum to a standstill. However, when my right hand pushes, my left is loath to move. The pendulum swings with negativity and hatred. I may push back many times, but always with little force. When I am so weak and desperate I might call upon the strength of my close and few friends to push back against this right hand. And yet, no matter the effort, even they struggle to match its strength. I never manage to push the pendulum with my left hand into motion. And there I sit. Caught in self-loathing, in unacceptance, in internalizing, in my weakness, in my worthlessness, in my despair. I think on suicide, I speak my piece, my feelings, my perspective, and I see the pain it brings to those who matter, to whom I matter, and yet I couldn't possibly. I see the baggage I am, and cry.