Tag: old words

It’s cold and I wrap my cardigan closer around my shivering form. Still, I don’t want to turn around and walk back home. It’s not time yet. Not now, maybe never. I enjoy the peaceful, quiet and loneliness that surrounds me. There is no sound but the wind and the waves. The wind blows widely, cutting against my skin. The sand feels cold underneath my bare feet.

Nobody is at the beach. It’s a lonely place. Abandoned. The sky look almost black, only thick clouds make it appear grey here and there. I know that in a few minutes, it will open up and soak me in cold rain. I stop and turn to look out across the sea. The waves are nothing more than white lines that crash eventually. Some are higher, some are almost flat. But they all come to me. As if they need to tell me what they saw out there. The ocean looks threateningly big and once again, I feel small. Around me, everything is big and meaningful. I am nothing but a grain of sand. Not important at all. I’m nothing. No one. The realization hits me hard; it always does and the resulting tears sting my eyes. I pretend that it’s the cold air nipping at my skin, but I know that I am lying to myself. And I also know the reason. He is back again. His voice in my head. And one day, he will kill myself. My demon. It’s someone who promises love and only offers sorrow in the end.

There are days when everything seems pointless. Nothing makes sense. Every fight seems to be lost and I feel obsolete. It’s what he tells me when I am trying not to listen. There is no reason for me to breathe.

The lines between the ocean and the sky turn into a blur and I wonder how it would feel to drown. Would it hurt? Would I fight it? Not that I have any intention of walking towards the freezing swallowing ocean, but I wonder about those things.

There are days when I long to feel that serenity I imagine one feels when death almost wins. Finding inner peace and being able to keep that feeling inside and letting go of everything else; it’s utopia. Nothing else matters anymore.

There are days when it would be so much easier to simply give up and fade away from earth. Who would care anyway? It’s what my demon encourages me to do.

I shake my head as I am trying to make those thoughts stop. Getting rid of that awful voice that is trying to pull me under is hard; it’s a battle I will lose some day soon. I don’t want this. I don’t want to surrender. I don’t want to submit to my demons. But it is stronger than me. He is stronger. It’s a deep dark hole I fall in from time to time, orchestrated by his words. Manipulating me like a puppet on a string. If I had a knife I could cut the strings. Sometimes, the hole is so deep that there is almost no way to get out of the dark and lonely place. Sometimes it’s a battle I win without much fight, and the right scent, the right notes can make me see the light again. It makes me emerge from the dark. But not always. Not always.

I struggle. An internal war is raging inside of me when all I need is inner peace. It looks so easy. For me, it isn’t.

The rain starts falling in big drops. In a matter of minutes, I am soaked to the bone and frozen. It’s freezing and the beach is still abandoned. I know that I should move to go home. I know that I should put on my socks and shoes, or I will catch a cold. But I can’t. I cannot move. I am paralysed. Something is holding me back. My hands fall to my sides, and I feel my shoulders slump. My head bends down, and I fall to my knees. My soaked cardigan is heavy on my skin. Pulling me down with an invisible, yet strong hold on my shoulders. I bury my face in my hands. Accepting my defeat. It comes out of nowhere. Or maybe it comes from somewhere. I cannot think. Shivering in the cold, with my long wet hair pasted to my face; I feel like give up.

I give up.

For the first time in a long time, I am willing to give in to the voice in my head. I am too tired to argue and to fight. I am too lonely to breathe and to exist.

“Take me with you!” I beg the cold emptiness surrounding me. It is the last surge of energy before my inner self combusts. My heart burns from the exertion. Ashes are all that will be left within me.

I cower on the beach. Alone. Painfully aware of all my flaws. Painfully aware of the inside me hole that is devouring me. Too tired to fight. And why should I fight anyway? He doesn’t let me fight.

What is there left here for me?

This place holds no shelter for me. I want to fade away and vanish. Too jaded to go on. Too hollow. It’s like I am in a trance.

I hear a noise and startle. I look up. I wake up and see where I am. Realize what I am doing. I’m trembling from the cold. A smile creeps up on my face. She is here to save me.

It’s always like that.

Two personalities inside of me. Fighting to get the reigns over me. One of them is overly optimistic, always positive and supportive. Always honest and chatty. The other is a suicidal pessimist. One day, he is going to win. One day, she will not be there in time to wake me up and win that secret war at the last minute. I know it. It scares me. But I am powerless. It’s not in my control.

The sky clears up. No more rain. The wind eases up. I am dripping wet. Sand is sticking to my clothes. I don’t know how long I knelt in the storm.

I move. Going home. Whatever that is. Wherever it is. But I am not paralysed anymore.

I enter my home. It’s empty. Almost no furniture. No voices. No colours. No you. No me. Nothing. I can’t stand the silence but I endure it. I should put some music on to drown out everything that haunts me. But I can’t. Not now. I can’t deal with the overstimulation of different sounds right now. The hardwood floor is wet from my clothes, and I undress. Struggling to get the wet clothes off my raw skin.

I decide to take a shower to wash away the emotions of the morning and the cold that fills my veins. But his voice is persisting today. He wants to see me perish and he can’t be washed away. He keeps entering my thoughts

I sigh into the foggy steamed bathroom mirror. It’s going to be a long week. It’s going to be a daily fight. I wish I could hibernate. Let the voices in my head fight it out and whoever wins can take over my body and soul. Whoever wins gets to do whatever they want with me.

What if the winner was me?

***

The original of this piece was written a long time ago (in 2014). I stumbled across it today and edited it a bit… It’s a heavy piece, not happy at all. And that leads me to say: I am in a good emotional place. All is okay over here.