A tiny rant…


A tumultuous  part of my brain is awake again. Its what makes me shake, make me quiver. It makes me weak. ‘Why can’t I let go’ I hear my own voice questioning me. Piercing at me. In times like this you turn out to be your own worst enemy. Especially in danger of going insane. Why? Well that’s simple. Because you know all your own insecurities, every single one of them. Down to the deepest detail.

I look out into the darkness that fills the room. Strangely enough it feels familiar. Like I’ve always had it around m. The absence of light. In this darkness I feel at peace. In the dark silence. Not a stir. Not a soul. Just myself and black. And visions of my salvation. A higher plain. Its just these visions that ease me. Brings me peace. I see images of my pain. My torture. Justice being served on my sins.  My mistakes. The weakness grows in me. My heart feeling heavy but oddly at peace with the situation. Like it wants to cry. Maybe its routine for this to happen. Maybe its like a reality check to keep me grounded on who I am. Overwhelmed by my thoughts. Overwhelmed by my fears, apprehensions and my feelings. My shattered fragile feelings. My eyes burn with the held back tears and my eyesight hallucinating, with images trying to break through from my mind.

Then it happens, the worst image, the worst feeling for me. I’m looking at myself. Staring into the  dead coal eyes.  A pale bluing skin encompassing my body. Like a dead man walking.  And then I hear my voice again. A muted scream. ‘Why? Why does it always have to be like this? Something so frivolously obscure. Why is it always a damn battle between me and myself? Why always the unrest?’

I think to myself. The cold starts to grow. My eyes start to tire. My mind and soul both feel drained. My will is weak. In dire need of attention. In need of strength.

But as lovely and sweat as that would be, right now every muscle, bone and blood cell in my body is feeling weak. At odds with itself. Uncomfortable. Unbearable. I wish I could have one of those out of body experiences. I wish it would all be over. I wish it would stop. Just stop happening this way.

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Author: Sammy Wiseguy

Marketer, blogger, reader, Arsenal fan, frequently emotionally wounded cricket fan

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