Tuesday, October 4, 2005

   II. Death of Wholeness and Regression to Sadness
Occasionally I would crawl from my hole for a moment to feel the pleasantry of air not as stagnant as that which remained beneath the rock with me. I could feel the sun, though my sight had long since turned black. All my senses save one were completely crushed and the disorientation this caused was devastating. Slowly this stopped altogether, the apprehension was too great and I had resorted to apathy.
I collapsed on the sand trying to crawl from my crevice, in a place where the sun and moon could not seek me out. That which I had loved about myself dissipated with the next morning mist. Insolvency had taken hold. I succumbed to the arid darkness of which I had become a faithful occupant. By means of impuissance I resided there. I recall how difficult it had been to sort through daily conversations. An overload of opinions and views that were once held as so valuable became the burden that lost me under this stress. I loved the fact that I kept all opinions and views of others as important, due to the fact that all ideals are believed despite who it is that believes it. Every opinion and conflict there of is important to a balance of imperfection that is so utterly human. This left me with naught but other’s opinions and left me without my own persona. That is how I’d fallen so easily to their malicious assault.
Then I had not even that notion. I had, in many ways, surrendered. Though breathing was what I was staunchly maintaining. Being alive seemed as though it still remained important. I had resigned to the blows that turned my seamless consciousness into a stronghold of Paranoia, Terror, Panic, Melancholy and Rage. I was too exhausted to move and too distraught to fight. One slow blink extinguished all feeling and all the days became one, I slipped into deceased hands. That is when I was truly abandoned and those who thought they knew me could know nothing. I was lost to life and all sorts of hopes and dreams went with it. I had one thing and that was the fading ictus sound of my own heart. I focused my thoughts there and fell soundly into blackness.
I had become subliminal, in essence, and I dreamt in cryptic pictures and emotional vibrations of a distorted surrealism. Incidentally there were moments of clarity and at times I felt control creep so near. That was only the electrical storm I could sense outside. The neurons trying to pull together the fuddled pieces of them, who constantly assailed each other, trying to make sense of the personality breaks that where so self evident. Trying to restore the broken fragments and I was the missing link. I too ruined to care that my body couldn’t truly live until I was restored and well. The disorder continued in this dream world and I supposed that those pictures and emotions were what connected me to my outer self.
I let myself drain completely and the sand I laid upon sucked from my body the happiness, hope, and love that barely clung to my awareness. I became a husk of my former self and there was little that my worn soul could do to change that. Now, face down in the sand I withered in my losses. My flaws had gotten the better of me. This is where it gets too chaotic to decipher. Can one understand that the multidimensional stratification of a being on a single plane of a physical realm is a form of hell so intense that the human mind cannot comprehend it unless it has endured it? I refuse to remember.
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