PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

As I lie here my head throbbing through my temples & the crumbs that I find scattered across my mattress digging into my sides, I feel my body begin to sink. 

I shut my eyes slightly and allow myself to give into gravity. I let go of all my inhibitions and think of what it would be like to pass away. To fade and forget. To no longer feel.

The first thing I see is darkness. A dark, beautiful, all consuming darkness. 

I allow myself to be enveloped by it, and feel myself bask in its warmth. There is nothing here. There is no sadness, there is no pain, there is no threat of loss or fear of weight gain. It’s just nothing. I feel weightless as I float through. 

I am one with my mind, totally detached from everything else. 

Where did I go? 

Where is that body of mine? 

I stop thinking. I do not care, as it does not matter. All that matters here is the dark and the silence and the peace I feel at last. 

Just as I begin to get adjusted, and begin to find clarity within my thoughts, a piercing clash rings through the presence that is me. 

Where did the beautiful darkness go? 

Where is the silence? 

Where is the nothing? 

I feel a hand reach out. 

All of the sudden I begin to become aware of my surroundings, I feel my body come back, and it’s almost as though I will break under the pressure of my own weight. 

My eyes, not yet adjusted to the bright flashes in front of me, see the bright white. 

I squint as I try to make out who or what is in front of me. 

I stumble backwards and feel my hand brush against a familiar texture. 

Suede. 

I begin to recognize my surroundings. They are so dark and so troublesome. A memory I had wish to forget.

I see a me. A smaller, weaker me, sobbing and begging to be taken away. 

I reach out a hand, but I slip through. 

Everything goes again, and I am brought to another scene. And another. And another. 

Each one like the last, consumed by a child me, wishing their life away. 

I feel sick. I feel sick everywhere. I get struck with the reality that I have been minutes away from death my whole life. 

That my dysfunctional brain has kept me on edge, and that I am a victim of my own mind. 

I cry out. Nothing feels real. 

I am not here. I am not there. I am still in the dark. Within the crevices of my memory, my mind. Being consumed by the very thing that tried to destroy me time and time again. 

I begin to shake. I am afraid. I wish to return to the before. I wish to find myself back in my bed, with my fan running and the air carrying the scent of home. I wish to be there. I don’t care where. Anywhere but here. Anywhere but the before. 

I open my eyes. 

I am home. 

I am in my bed. 

I am alive and I am here. 

I breathe a sigh of relief and begin to relish in the good. The alive. 

I am alive. 

I realize that I don’t want to fade. I don’t want to die. 

I just want to feel happy. I just want to feel calm and content. 

I want to break away from the periodic exhaustion that envelops me. 

As I lie here, 

The covers pulled over my head, and the aching in my temples giving me a nudge of reality, 

I feel calm. I am confused, and unsure, and afraid.

But I am here. Laying here. In the silence of my home, relishing a moment of human. I am sad. I am hurting and sick. But I am breathing, my heart is pumping, and I realize that tomorrow can be different. Tomorrow can be new. It poses a challenge, but that is alright. 

As I lie here I begin to fade into a steady sleep. I count up from fives. I see how high I can go. 

I feel more alive than ever, I am hyper aware. Yet I am somehow more serene.