The Drift

If you build walls and keep a distance, how can you nourish anything real? And if you don’t, how do you avoid the suffering that comes with broken trust?

I’m fighting something I don’t seem to win. Maybe it’s been lurking around for years, tens of years, and now has finally gathered all its forces and overwhelmed me in the most perverse and complete way. It’s there, all there, in every corner, line and circle. And I just don’t know what to do with it; I don’t need it, I pray to God to take it from me and spread it somewhere else, but it wouldn’t go away. I don’t recognize myself anymore – where is the balance I used to relay on? Where is the steady pace of my reason? Where is the equilibrium a mind would find so soothing?

It’s a drift towards nowhere, no shore in sight, no clear horizon, no silver lining for the gloomy clouds above. What I thought would hold the shape of comfort was only illusion; and now the last refuge parted for good. How could I put back together the pieces of this terrible wreck I’ve become? Would they fit back into the puzzle? How about the lost ones, as lost are so many… If I broke into a thousand shreds, that means they weren’t rightfully glued and then I should’ve broken into a hundred thousand more.

Repressed emotions cry out and mingle with all the lacerated trust, an invisible monster is born and eats me alive. I have to handle this, I wand to handle this, but I don’t know how. I’m out of strength, the will fades out. It’s just so much – too much? I realize I can only get support from the few others who stood by me, but the real help has do come from deep within; and from above.

Sadness with its powerful child, desperation, are turning into drugs. It’s hard escaping them when you perceive all your life as the map of all your failures. Lost, lonely, abandoned, doomed. Unable to rise beyond own sorrow. Unworthy to be loved. An admirable wreck no one would miss.

They say it’s a trial, some sort of rebirth that I’ll get out of a stronger, better being. Suppose I manage to… I only see a drift. A painful, excruciating drift, an endless loop around a constant misery. The misery that became my name.


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