Why The Empty And Broken Love To Self-Destruct


I have this theory. It’s nothing groundbreaking, nothing worthy of recognition, nothing innovative. It’s just an empty theory about empty people, empty people who are broken, shattered and incomplete. I have this theory that those of this vice actively seek hurt even if they don’t realize it.

It sounds preposterous and ridiculous. Why would anyone seek misfortune? Why would anyone seek to inflict pain upon themselves? Why would anyone choose to self-harm? It sounds preposterous and ridiculous but only if you are normal, stable and probably somewhat sane. Yet sanity is no longer fashionable, it’s an archaic standard. Irrationality is the new norm. It’s more acceptable to be part of the unhinged madness because the majority already is.

I have this theory, this theory that empty and broken people seek hurt and each have their preferred form of self-harm. Some choose to inflict physical pain upon themselves. Some pull their hair and some to choose to cut. Some drink themselves to oblivion and some shoot drugs. Some have toxic people in their lives that hurt them over and over but they can’t muster up the courage to get rid of. Regardless of the method, every empty and broken person has a self-sabotaging line of behavior.

I have my own form of self-harm as well. I run. It may not sound as destructive as the other forms mentioned earlier but even the most innocent of activities have the potential to be lethal if executed correctly.

I run and not moderately either; I run excessively, too much, too often on nothingness. There’s no food in the tank, just an emptiness that seeks something to fill the void.

Why do I and others of this vice seek such damaging behaviors? I have a theory for that question as well. I know for myself that it’s only when I’m the on the brink of complete physical ruin that I can keep the demons at bay. It’s only when I run till my lungs are on the point of collapse, gasping so desperately for air that I am reminded of pain. I am reminded that I am not entirely empty as I thought I was. I am reminded that there is still a glimmer of normalcy, a bit of humanity in me. And in a strange twisted way, that reminder of feeling pain and choosing to inflict it upon myself is hope that I can still feel and that I have not succumbed to complete numbness. For had I felt nothing, I would have continued and continued to self-destruct until there was nothing left to salvage.