THE THING I NEVER THOUGHT I'D SAY
I've debated sharing this topic for a long time. I didn't think I had the strength, confidence, understanding or contentness to share my experience with the thing. The only way I've cultivated the ability to say the thing I never thought I'd say is by doing it without directly saying it. This makes it easier for me because if they guess correctly, they'll never know with certainty. So this is a blog post of me saying the thing I never thought I'd say without saying the thing I never thought I'd say.
The world is so dark, even when the lights are on, when the sun is up or the face of a person you love is illuminated with a smile. The lights are always off, the ones that once flickered and sparked when you spoke about your passions or when you saw a dog on a walk. The simple joys in life will become complicated. Actually, the joys themselves will dissipate until talking about them won't conjure an effortless smile.
Smiling will require work. To love will hurt. To be will burn.
You'll be alive but being alive will feel like death. What does death feel like? Death feels like you're a motionless ocean, without waves, without sea life, without the sun glistening and refracting upon its exquisite glass-like surface. Oh, but my description is not strong enough. Let me try again. Let me tell you about the feeling that it is to have a crushed heart, already so bruised, battered and breaking to be ripped, slowly, torturously into a pulped mush of a million little pieces by just one word, one that usually would mean nothing but now, means everything. Let me describe to you the indescribable feeling of a meaningless sentence that now carries the weight of a thousand, in-depth words. Let me tell you about the simmering kettle of discontent that would once boil after brewing, humming, and singing over days and years but now over one whisper of a broken song in a second. Its lullaby will torment you as it murders you with its tune replaying in your mind as you study, breathe, and sleep. The song doesn't kill you. The song haunts you, which is worse in all of its poignancy and purposefulness.
The thing I never thought I'd say is that I applied to my story what I believed was inapplicable. I didn't cause a scene, I didn't throw a tantrum, I didn't chuck a fit. I didn't create another action, I tried to do an indefinite action that would cease the finite infinity we're gifted. Within attempting to cease one's actions forevermore, there is no silliness, no childless or room for belittling within that.
The existence that this truth allows for is one of ultimate despair, omnipresent devastation, harrowing atrocity and inextricable seriousness.
The blue sky was blue but it burned my eyes, it stung them. This day, my mind created all of my actions, my moving ligaments merely pawns, undecisive, of minimal relevance. My broken heart, my tortured cranium, my torn wings, my melting eyes, and my burning soul are a few to name of every component of my body that had become blackened by the thought of no tomorrow, a worthless future, existence and past. I'd never been overcome by emotion so greatly that what became of me was somebody emotionless, completely numb like novocaine, to the core. I saw nothingness and nothingness saw me. We met. We, then, intertwined together. I'd let it get so close to me that it was able to tangle me in its vines and sink me below the dirt, burying me, choking me, suffocating me, murdering me silently and ever so completely.
There was nothing left of me when nothing took me.
There'll be two ways you see the world afterwards:
The first will be a deep disturbance that taints your outlook, a disturbance with knowing you almost left a place that you once simply noticed and that you can now recognise with awe.
The second will be a kind of hypnosis within yourself, feeling like you're here but not really, a part of your soul having died with the part of your physical body that would've/should've/could've left that day.
That day... Was a day that shaped this future you presently don't know how to live in. Blindly, you'll look with your eyes wide open, like a stunned animal at something you're not quite sure how to see but something that you now, mostly, believe you want to see. It will feel confusing. There is no handbook for how to see a place that you wholeheartedly believed you'd never see again, one that you'd come to terms with leaving but are now still truly, entirely living in. The difficult perplexity of now will haunt you for the rest of your days, sometimes in an eerily fashion and occasionally, in a perfect way.
The thing I never thought I'd say is a thing I've now said. And though it feels freeing, I wonder: Will anybody understand the feeling of nothing that also feels like everything? Will anybody see the truth buried beneath my disarray? Do you get me in the way that I get you? Though I hope for this, I would never wish for this upon anyone, though, especially nor you, my darling Dolls.
Kisses,
COS x
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