There
is no changing what we are.
There
is no changing what we feel. Or is there?
I
am struggling inside my mind, layers upon layers of fetters and conditioning.
My
mind resides inside a physical form that places more fetters around my
existence.
My
body exists inside a society, a pre-existent construction that has its own rules
and ideas, bringing more fetters in the equation.
My
society is a country presently entrapped in a state of economical war with
other countries, and I have no future to look forward to, no way to realise my
dreams.
As
if all the fetters inside weren’t enough, I am also trapped outside and there
is no place to run to. I am stranded on a hostile planet with no escape.
There
is nothing for me here. Only the brief repose of reading a book, watching a
movie, writing, talking to a friend, when time ceases to exist and that pain
abates for a little while.
You
tell me to keep on struggling, that better days will come, that this is not all
that is, and there is hope.
Maybe
there is. But right now all I see is darkness. I have struggled with all those
fetters for years, and more fetters come to replace those I have removed and
broken with so much effort. I feel buried under them. I cannot breathe. I keep
pushing on, blind, broken, angry, furious with rage. I am blind rage and
nothing more. Rage is the only thing remaining to fuel me. Sadness does not
count.
There
is so much blood on my hands, such a burden on my soul. This time I did not
kill anyone. This lifetime I played by the rules, and gained a room with a view
in prison.
I
want out. I want to live. I want even the pretense of living. I want something
I cannot have. I want bliss, and the brief moments I have experienced it make
me even sadder for knowing what I miss. I want out of here. Out of this fucking
planet. Out of this existence. Everything hurts. Every single thing I see cuts
me and burns me and hurts me. I am an exposed nerve, and no matter how well I
hide, if I make the mistake of walking out and looking at anything else than
the trees, something appears to hurt me. From the piece of litter I see on the
ground to the contemptuous glance a passerby gives to another passerby, everything
hurts and overwhelms me. I am exhausted. I want to rest. I don’t understand
anything anymore. I don’t know what I am doing wrong. Maybe this world isn’t
for me. Maybe I am not made for this world. Maybe it was all a mistake.
I
just want to rest. I want to close my eyes and sleep and never wake up again. I
am so tired. So sick of struggling. So sick of fighting to gain what others
take for granted. Everything is a struggle and a battle and I am so disgusted
of existing just to suffer and flail and achieve nothing.
I
want to do nothing. But there is so much I need to do. From mundane tasks to
personal projects, there is so much I need to do. And if I open the door and
step out of this life, even if something good happens I won’t be there to see
it.
That’s
what I tell myself and persuade her not to do anything stupid.
I
don’t know for how long this will keep me here.
I
don’t know how much time I have left before I break completely and don’t care
anymore.
For
today, it is enough. Tomorrow is another struggle.
One
day at a time. One breath at a time.
We’ll
cross that bridge when we get there.
That’s
my girl.
