Ирина Одарчук Паули роман Внутренняя борьба на анг

Prologue
Darkness.
Silence.
Only the beating of the heart in the temples, heavy and uneven.
I sit on the edge of the bed, clenching my fists so hard that my nails dig into my palms. The pain is the only thing that reminds me that I'm still alive.
But who am I?
The one who wakes up in the morning, smiles at people and pretends that everything is fine? Or the one who spends the night fighting demons that whisper from the depths of the mind?
Internal struggle is not a fight. It is a war without end, without winners.
And I don't know how much longer I can hold out.

Chapter 1. Bifurcation
The morning begins with a lie.
“Good morning, Mom!” I say cheerfully, pouring coffee.
“You look tired,” she remarks, looking closely at the dark circles under my eyes.
— I just went to bed late. Work.
Lie.
I couldn't sleep because I heard it again. That voice that whispers, "You're no good. Why try?"
At work, everything is the same. Colleagues laugh at jokes, the boss praises me for the project. I nod, smile, but inside there is emptiness.
“Hey, how are you?” Oleg asks at lunch.
“Everything is great!” I answer automatically.
Another lie.
Because the truth would sound like this:
"I'm falling apart. I don't know who I am. Every day is a mask, and underneath it is nothing."
But who wants to hear that?

Chapter 2. Shadows of the Past
Another nightmare at night.
I run down a dark corridor, and behind me is it. Not a face, not a form, just a presence. It breathes down my neck, whispers:
"You will never escape."
I wake up in a cold sweat.
On the nightstand is a photo of my father. He passed away when I was ten. His last words were, "Be strong."
But what if I can't?
I pick up my phone and scroll through social media. Everyone has a perfect life. Traveling, smiling, successful.
And what about me?
Just this little worm inside that gnaws at me: "You're not good enough."

Chapter 3. On the Edge
“Maybe you should see a psychologist?” Katya, my only friend, suggests cautiously.
“I’m not crazy,” I snap.
- That's not the point. It's just... you say yourself that you don't sleep well, everything irritates you.
I remain silent.
Because I know that if I open the door to these demons, they will flood me over the head.
But one evening I'm standing on the balcony. Below are the city lights, people, life.
And I have one question in my head:
"What if I step?"
Not because of a death wish. No.
About stopping feeling.

Chapter 4. Breakthrough
The next day I call Katya.
— I... I need help.
My voice is shaking. I hate this weakness.
But she just says:
- Okay. I'm on my way.
And then, for the first time in years, I allow myself to cry.

Epilogue
The fight is not over.
But now I know: I'm not alone.
The demons still whisper.
But I learned not to trust them.
Because even in the deepest darkness there is a faint light.
And that's enough to move on.

Inner Struggle. Part 2
Chapter 5. First session
The psychologist's office smells of lavender and old paper.
- Tell me, what brought you here? - the woman at the table looks at me without pity, but also without condemnation.
I grip the armrests of the chair.
- I... can’t cope.
Words come hard, like rusty nails that need to be pulled out of your own throat.
- Sometimes I wake up and don't understand why I need to get up.
She nods and writes something down.
- And when did it start?
I close my eyes.
Five years. Ten. Forever.
— I don’t remember.
Lies. Again.
The truth is that I remember exactly: the first thought that “something was wrong” came at fourteen, when I stood in front of the mirror and suddenly did not recognize my reflection.
But how can this be explained?

Chapter 6. Shards
Katya insists on “fasting days”.
- Let's just go out of town. No talking, if you don't want to.
We sit on the shore of the lake, silent. The wind drives the waves, and I catch myself thinking that I envy the water - it just is, it doesn't need to pretend.
“You know what the scariest thing is?” I say suddenly. “What if one day I decide… and no one even understands why.”
Katya doesn't answer. She just takes my hand and squeezes it so hard that the bones crunch.
And that's enough.

Chapter 7. Breakdown
Work saved me. While I could bury myself in deadlines.
But today the boss called me into the office:
- You're squeezing results out of yourself. Clients are complaining.
I remain silent.
- Take a vacation. Get your thoughts in order.
What vacation? Where? To an empty apartment where the walls are pressing in?
In the evening I smash a mug on the floor. Then a second one. Then the mirror in the hallway.
I look at the fragments.
Here I am.

Chapter 8. Bottom
“Alcohol is a bad antidepressant,” says the psychologist at the third session.
“But it’s fast,” I smile.
But she's right. After yesterday, I woke up in a strange neighborhood, without a phone and with bloody knuckles.
- What's happened?
— Got into a fight. Or fell. I don’t remember.
For the first time in months, she changes her tone:
- If you don't stop, our next meeting will be in the hospital. Or the morgue.
I know it's not a threat.
This is a forecast.

Chapter 9. The Fracture
Night.
I stand in front of an open window. The wind hits my face.
One step.
But suddenly the phone rings.
- Are you sleeping? - Katya's voice is hoarse. - They found a... kitten. Wounded. I need help.
I close my eyes.
She's lying.
But I still say:
- I'm on my way.
Because even if it’s a lie, it’s a saving lie.

Chapter 10. Dawn
The kitten is real.
- See? Someone else is twitching, - Katya thrusts a tiny, trembling creature into my hands.
I feel his heartbeat. Rapid, frightened.
Like mine.
“We’re nursing him back to health,” I say.
And suddenly I realize that this is not about the cat.

Epilogue. One year later
The demons haven't gone anywhere.
But now I have a list:
1. Call Katya when it’s dark.
2. Do not store alcohol at home.
3. Find one reason every day.
Today it is:
— The sun is on the windowsill.
- A cat (former kitten) sleeping on my chest.
- And the fact that I woke up.
The fight continues.
But I'm not alone anymore.

 Part 3: Reflections
Chapter 11. Awakening
The morning begins without lies.
“You look... better,” Mom says at breakfast, and there’s something new in her eyes—a cautious hope.
I shrug:
- Today is a good day.
And it's true.
Not because the world has changed. Because I have changed my starting point.
On the wall in the bedroom is a piece of paper with a stupid inscription: “You don’t have to be perfect to be worth living.”
I still laugh at this phrase. But I continue to read it every morning.

Chapter 12. Cracks
"You've become somehow... calm," Oleg says at work. "Almost creepy."
I smile:
— I just stopped wasting my energy on tilting at windmills.

Darkness.
Silence.
And a familiar chill down my spine.
"What if..."
I turn on the flashlight on my phone until the power comes back.
The progress is that I now understand that it is not weakness to be afraid. Weakness is pretending that there is no fear.

Chapter 13. Meeting with the Shadow
In my dream I am in that corridor again.
It's coming for me.
But this time I stop.
“What do you want?” I ask.

- So that you recognize me.
I wake up with a wet face.
The cat pokes its muzzle into the palm.
“Okay,” I whisper. “Okay.”

Chapter 14. Letter
The psychologist gives a strange task:
— Write a letter to someone who hurt you.
— To your father?
— Or to myself. To that boy who still waits for his dad to come back and say, “You’re good enough.”
I am writing.
I'm burning it.
I'm writing again.
The third time I leave it in the desk drawer.
"Forgive me. I'm trying."

Chapter 15. Relapse
Rain.
The damned downpour that has been pouring for the third day.
I don't leave the house.
I don't answer calls.
In my head there is an old familiar voice: "Nothing has changed. You are deceiving yourself."
I pick up the phone. I dial Katya: “I can’t today.”
She answers a minute later: “I’m at the door.”

Chapter 16. Anchors
Katya brings soup and that same cat who is now hissing at mine.
“Okay, hero,” she places the plate in front of me. “Rule number one?”
— "...don't bury yourself alive."
I'm eating.
I'm crying.
I'm sleeping.
This is not a cure.
This is a breather.

Chapter 17. Again
Morning.
The rain stopped.
I open the window - the air smells of earth and something reborn.
There is a new leaflet on the wall:
"Happiness is not a destination. It is a journey."
I laugh.
The cat is scratching the door - he needs to go for a walk.
“Let’s go,” I say.
And we go.

Epilogue. Life after
I still:
— Sometimes I wake up with anxiety.
— I'm angry at my parents for old wounds.
— Checking if the door is closed (three times).
But now I also:
- The one who feeds homeless cats.
- Who calls mom just like that?
- Who survived.
The demons haven't gone anywhere.
But now they don't have a microphone.

Epilogue: A View from Silence
(Monologue of a psychologist, years later)
That guy came to me again.
The same one - with dull eyes and clasped hands. Only now in his pocket lies not a bottle of pills "just in case", but a crumpled photograph: he is standing on a mountain pass, the sun is behind him, and he is laughing. For real.
"Remember how I said I could never feel this?" he asks.
I remember. I remember all of them - those who came with the same pain. Those who did not make it. Those who found their anchors.
“You were wrong,” I say.
“Yes,” he turns the photo over to reveal the crooked letters on the back that read, “For the days you forget.” “But that’s not the point.”
- What's the main thing?
He looks out the window where a girl (Katya, of course) is walking down the street, dragging three cats on leashes behind her.
— That I kept making mistakes. And that's okay.
When he leaves, I straighten the sign on the door.
"Fight. Not for victory. For the right to make peace with yourself."