| Behold, I have arrived. What if imagination was only memory? Memory of the great source that stores all that has and will come to pass. And because of our umbilical cord, we can tap in, and recall glimpses. As time in fact runs parallel, and not linear. My memories then, consume me. They are eating me up like parasites, and with every brand and whip that sears my flesh I retreat. I was never a masochist, I never saw the pleasure in romanticizing suffering. I suppose the most I've done with it is create poetry, but even now I tire of replicating verses that drone on and on about the contractions prior to a birth, in an ending. It is nights like these, where I lay in complete vacancy, listening to the humming of the refrigerator. The metallic rail of this heater which makes me thirsty, but when turned off, turn my skin as frigid as the outside air. Tonight. My complacency suffocates me. And as much as I cannot bear to be alone, I cannot also bear to be around others, because then for their sake, I have to try. Try to smile, try to talk and act like at least I am not completely falling apart. I skype my mother and express wanting to go study in Peru and immediately she meets me with the fear of some crippling virus disease in Brazil. Fear, fear, fear. Every fucking thing I've ever wanted to do, people's initial response was fear. It's no wonder I grew up completely fearing everything. Never learning from past hardships, because I still view them as mistakes. Instead of opportunities that made me grow. And so now I fear future relationships, catering instead to wounds of my past. If I truly didn't believe my past to be a mistake, but a gateway further into what is sincere and alive in me, then I wouldn't be so afraid to leap into the unknown. But this only resonates in my head. Everything neck down, trembles in fear. Fear of things that have already passed. Fear of an unknown future which for certain promises more destruction and unfortunate events. And behold, it occurs! I've entrapped myself in Hell. Watching my loved ones slowly die, call out to me and I can't do a damn thing about it. I scream inside and it goes unheard. I weep and pray in fear, and am met with that ugly, frightful mask looking back at me with infinite complacency. Where has the light fled to? So that I may pray on these knees with gratitude and trust, that you protect and provide for my loved ones, if not me. For all this time I would withstand the suffering if it was in me, but now the tides have turned. I cannot see those I love go to ruin, and my helplessness plagues me. I am so angry with my Maker. So angry and paralyzed. When will this volcano erupt, and my breathing lava brewing in spill forth? I regurgitate vomit, the decaying food baffles my mind in that how could something which once tasted sweet, when consumed, turn so bitter in its defeat? |
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