There will never be enough blog entries to fully describe the indignation, anguish and hollowness that swirls inside of myself. I try over and over to drain it from my soul. I keep writing, hoping the next post will be the one that gets it all out in the open, far away from my cold heart.
It never is.
Nothing or nobody will ever fill this void. I would never, I could never expect someone to come in and put themselves in the empty space that is me. I keep holding my breath, hoping that notion will change.
It never does.
I hear all these voices calling me in every direction. Like a lonely and haunted piano echoing through the corridors, I try to follow the melody carefully. I’m trying hard to walk in the right direction, but every time I make a choice, I end up falling through a trap door. I’m here in a dark empty room. I’m calling for help, but nobody comes. Nobody can hear me.
They never do.
Life has become a blur these days. I try to stay present, but sooner or later, I drift away somewhere I can’t recall.
What have I done? Who have I become? Where I did I go so terribly wrong? Have I brought this upon myself? Is it fair to shift the blame on somebody else? I want to, but I realize that would be useless. There’s nothing that would change the outcome that my life has become anyway. I sometimes feel I’ve subconsciously did this to myself as punishment. It’s as if I’ve found a new way to self-harm myself, by sabotaging my own reality. I take all the little moments and cut myself deeply with them, telling myself I deserved every painful waking second of it. My heart holds onto this pain, and uses it against itself in my moments of weakness, vulnerability, and when the world is too quiet.
My heart loves to hate me.
My relationship with myself is a violent dance. I’m twirling in every direction, trying to reach for my hand that’s too far. I pirouette straight into the fire and straight into the dark. I’m falling and falling down, further and further until I fall beneath the ocean waves that have waited for me all this time. The water pins me under tightly, and I can’t breathe. And yet… I’m still breathing. I’m looking up through the dark waters that are trying to drown me. I’m staring at the trap door far above me. The entrance I fell through that led me down here, so far out of reach from the world I thought I knew. I close my eyes. I take in the water that forces itself into my lungs, and I drift away into the darkness.
Of course, this is what I envision as I stare at the wall in my bedroom. I envision drowning, maybe because I’ve almost drowned several times at the “hands” of water. It still beckons me, even after it almost stealing my life. Why does my mind drift into the ocean? Perhaps my subconscious relates all too well with the uncertain depths of what awaits me in violent waves. I don’t know. But here I am, picturing myself sinking under the water that’s far away from where I currently sit. The stars sparkle and stare down at me as I drown.
It’s okay though… here in the darkness is where I’m comfortable. I’ve found my home, my only friend in here. Inside this void, I’m safer than at the sake of someone else. I have control in here. I decide when I fall in. When the reality outside myself brings nothing but pain, I can retreat inside here and be with myself. I’ve already felt the pain that was inflicted on me out there in the world. But now the pain waits outside this void, it’s always waiting. And here I am, inside my castle of glass. Quietly and with all the hope I hold, I pray the pain that lingers outside will go away. It usually doesn’t… but ignorance is bliss.
No matter what, there’s always a little pain in my pocket. I can’t escape it. It’s like a magnet. I don’t want to face it, so it keeps chasing me. I see it there, but I’m pulling away as hard as I can. The pain becomes like a tick; a little parasite that aims to kill me slowly. I don’t dare show this to anyone, for if they see it, they’ll know the truth. They’ll see my core as the tick eats away and reveals the ugliness I’ve been spending forever trying to conceal… and the cycle repeats, over and over.
I can’t drain this poison. Post after post, I keep bleeding all over my blog. There’s so much blood that’s been spread around here because this tick keeps ripping me apart. I can’t conceal what’s underneath when I’m spilling my guts on here.
Who am I when no one is around? I’m someone no one ever wants to see. My heart shatters into a million pieces when no one is looking. And yet… if you catch me at the “right” moment, you may look too long at me and see what’s hiding behind my irises. But still, you will back away. At this point, it doesn’t phase me anymore. I’ll watch you as you run, and I’ll fall back into my void. Neither of us has to face what we just endured.
I listen closely to the voices and the music that call me home. The corridors are shifting; this is becoming a familiar place again. I’ve found my way back to my sacred prison. The weight of the pain disguises itself, fusing itself inside me. I feel myself become heavy, yet numb. The smoke fills my lungs and leads me inside. Everything is as it should be.
The entity of sweet solitude takes me by the hand, holds me closely, and dances with me until we both disappear into the darkness…
…I’m safe. I’m free.