There are times where the reasons to leave become obnoxiously loud. Reasons to stay remain silent under pressure, cowering in the corner until the world feels safe again. That is, if that time ever exists again. Dragged down a path blocked by the thorns of blush roses that rake across my arms and stained cheeks. Venom spills warm streams that drip with every heavy step. It all seems so colossal in the moment, like the layer of black clouds will never be pulled away and my hope for sunshine is incredibly stupid. I don’t believe the ones that say there is blue still left in the heavens.
How can I believe anyone anymore?
What a terrifying place to be, to not know what’s right or wrong, up or down, love or hate. Slowly pealing away is the last skin of humanity I have left. All that’s left is me; the only one I can believe.
During my time on this path I see that people often think the phrase “lost my mind” equates insanity. For myself it is quite the opposite. Insanity is when I had finally experience my mind what it truly is: ugly. I spend day and night with it alone, we speak often, arguing frequently, and I just simply learn from it. This is when insanity comes. Its gradual and unexpected. Insanity treats you like an old friend, like a best friend, perhaps. Like it had never been gone. It finds you when you most need something to hold onto. Something to believe, because at this point everyone is your enemy, including yourself.
Insanity turns the world upside down and shakes up everything you thought you knew like a snow globe, everything loose and floating. Everything intangible.
Years have passed and insanity comes for visits, waiting for the moments where life is shattering and floating. For when I have lost faith in everything yet again.
So here I am, watching the reasons to stay leave one by one.
When will I finally decide It’s time to leave for good?
So yes, we all grew up. In the end no one could press pause, no one could preserve innocence, and everyone just deeps dying. That seems to be the only thing I’m good at these days. Wasting away like a cat with nothing better to do but sleep. My body and mind scream for rest, tugging my eyelids down and shutting off the sounds around me. I can’t seem to hear much anymore. Food tastes all the same, bathing overwhelms me, my heavy brain can’t think. I find myself frequently holding my breath, as if unconsciously I’m trying suffocate myself.
Maybe if i hold my breath long enough, time really will stop. Or perhaps a wish will come true, like when I was a child driving through a tunnel. I would hold my breath until my face turned purple and we came out the other end, all for one selfish wish. A new toy, a trip to Disney Land, all things that seems so extraordinary then. Now my wishes are just as greedy, but far more complicated. Ever day I hold my breath waiting for wishes to come true: to be anywhere but here and anybody but myself.