I was too afraid (or maybe too conscious) to take my life,
so I let life take me, piece by piece, part by part.
Now this may sound totally a hypothetical emotional
philosophy but if u know me , like if u ‘know’ know me for more than few years
now and you know exactly how much the significance of thought spiral is then
you know it’s not just a bleak philosophy , it has physical practical causes :
)
And I will never share the pain because I don’t feel it
anymore; I feel it’s absorbed around my walls and that this pain is all mine not yours, maybe suffering
is mutually ours. I read it somewhere people who suppress pain and anger are
more prone to diseases because by suppressing it they train the body to hide
their symptoms too, which I feel is quite true.
And the inverse is also true. When you don’t hide away your
pain , when you get angry, get sad more often than your body also starts
showing the same pathetic courage, of being brave in being sad , as you
do. Your skin, your brain, your eyes,
your body just gives you signs of the decomposing life vaporizing from your
grounds.
I can feel life leaving me or life leaving off me; and I don’t
know in what different way am I supposed to summarize all that has been
happening other than saying ,
“Life is taking me.” / “I am being brave in being sad.” / “I
am dying in an alive body.”/ “I’m alive in a dying body.”
Because when life goes out from your feet, you give up on taking long walks on a windy day, you stop going out on evenings ; you let them paralyze you.
When life goes out from your ears maybe the favorite songs start to annoy you, maybe the deepest darkest weird songs that are tremendously underrated starts to appeal you more. Maybe your favorite singer gets demoted to just another celebrity and the winds, the howls, the sound of once beautiful life, now reflects into nothing , that you become a void that nothing can penetrate.
When life goes out from your skin, then the sunlight you always wanted to be under, starts burning you; when you don’t feel a need to have any sort of human contact or when hugs don’t feel what they should and instead they freak the shit out of you, or a simple handshake makes you feel exposed to social happiness that is far more terrorizing than loner sadness.
When life gets pulled out of your stomach it takes hunger away with it too, and the only thing you survive on is water, hoping that it will wash off all the internal crisis inside me like a tsunami but all it does is the rains of despair.
When life gets sucked out your hands, you don’t want to write about anything good; you just neutralize the ever so strong pain of you into words that will always be misunderstood, when your metaphors only make sense to you.
When life goes out of your body , you feel body shamed by even looking at yourself in the mirror; when you think that nothing you wear suits your body , not even your skin, when there is an internal degrading battle between your face and body on who looks the worse.
And when life leaves your face, you forget to smile , when people think the yellow tint on your face is glow, but you realize it’s your face going pale because apparently you don’t have enough blood or hemoglobin in you to suppress the paleness of the “still-living-but-about-to-die” human corpse you have become or the constant bleeding that drained all shades of red from within you.
When life sheds through your eyes, you can’t see the beauty in everyone like you used to, when anything your eyes once wanted to see, like those mountains, oceans, snow, maple, stars, they don’t believe in seeing now and they are at peace with it and hang them on a weak string of “I don’t think I even ever loved them in the first place.” ; instead all the eyes see is the pillow that soaks every night; when the darkness around your eyes starts debuting in your dreams which are just pitch black.
When life goes out of your dreams , you don’t dream, for months; you don’t dream about the past /present/strictly not the future, you even stop daydreaming.
When life goes out of your heart, well, then you just want to hate anything anyone you ever loved starting with you yourself, because you realize love can’t heal and only cuts and wounds are healed ; scars are going to stay forever. When all you hear is a heart continuously gasping for breath like you are, instead of a heartbeat, when sometimes you can’t even hear it beat and that makes you smile and think maybe the pain is over. And No, Love cannot heal the scars love left because love never leaves scars.
When life
decays off your soul you don’t feel the process of healing , you lose beliefs
and faith, you shut yourself down to a single space of a singular space; you
sleep , you fall asleep as if you are practicing your deathbed rituals which
will come soon.
Now you have been wondering how I am even alive if everything
in me is losing life, well it’s because my brain is still living and still dissipating
life simultaneously. It started all from Cortisol who is the main villain, released
in the hypothalamus. The center of the brain; the center of my state. And I wonder
how complicated can it get ?
When the center of your cause and the root of your survival
is the same thing; when the cause of your pain and the root of your existence is
just the same place (coincidence? I think not.)
When you realize it’s always the fight between your betterment
and your fate. And you are just torn between being you or being what is
socially acceptable. When life takes off you, it isn't painful it's just losing the version of you , you have always hated; but then, becoming a version of you , you can't love.
. . .
Let’s end it with another metaphor, shall we?
A jar filled with the candies for all your life, and
everyone has one . Like a normal person I started with having one candy for one
moment, being happy, and then focusing on the other moment to be happy. But now
I am extremely paranoid, and extremely scared of the uncertainty that I chose
to toss away that jar of candies in the stream. And maybe now I am at peace
with my chaos.
_S.K.
