 |
| "The lies and the screams and the misery have latched on..." |
30th November, 14.48pm.
It grows.
A yawning, widening, gaping chasm of all the evils stored within the halls of my mind, begins to proliferate faster than I can sew it shut.
Within it, I see everything I fear; losing my friends, losing my family, even losing the ones I love.
My greatest fear is that someone will ultimately come along and send me over the edge.
It very nearly happened yesterday, when my colleagues turned against me and drove me to the precipice of insanity. I can't take it anymore.
I can't take it anymore.
I can't take it -
(Focus. Focus.
We have an article to write.)
Right, of course.
They laughed at me. I made myself vulnerable and snapped, and all they did was shrug it off and laugh.
There's no point in trying to convince them anymore - cogent arguments are lost under the banner of troll logic.
A shrill cacophony of hysteria is all I will get from them - even if I do not need it.
My mistress keeps me safe; her soothing touch liberates me from the worries I face in the real world, and keeps me hidden from those who would decry my actions should they learn of my dark history.
I know what would happen.
Should I reveal myself to the world, they'd be the first to voice their opinions. They'd be the first to dub me "an attention-seeker" who is "only doing this to be popular".
Let me tell you something, you ignorant troglodyte; if I was doing this for attention, why would I go to so much effort to keep my wounds hidden from the world?
Why would I keep myself to myself, and only tell a select few about my journey?
Idiots! Your narrow views blind you to the fact that I cannot "get over it" or "man up", no matter how many times you preach your toxic diatribes.
The rest would judge me silently, whinge about my actions the instant my back is turned. A few would stay by my side, but only a few; I know what the rest truly think.
Sometimes I can hear them. Sometimes, when I turn my back, I hear their whispers, coalescing to form a nonsensical cacophony, growing and growing and growing -
Until I am overwhelmed, and I retreat from their venomous diaspora of crude insults and outright lies.
My wrist, she burns and radiates with pain, the scars digging deeper day by day, each ramifying across my lower arm like the gnarled branches of a dying tree.
They don't know - but sooner or later, my secret will be revealed to all.
One day, I will show them, and if that won't get them to listen, nothing will.
30th November, 15.51pm.
Can't - focus.
I try to call for help, I know she will help, but my mind blocks me.
What if I am a drain on her psyche? I don't want to be a drain, I don't want to make anyone's day any worse.
So, I remain silent, murmuring half-truths and venomous words alone.
I am tainted. The lies and the screams and the misery have latched onto my flesh, digging deep and refusing to let go. Permeating into my sinews, drilling through bone and haphazardly fitting into my sanctum, I am not myself. Gone was the cheery, anti-apathetic mindset of yesterday - now, the nihilist takes its place.
Sleep is the only refuge - within, I can see memories soaked in the nostalgia which fights off misery, the antibiotic to help cure my cold. But just like in real life, it does more harm than good, exacerbating my condition further, providing me with a split second of comfort.
Deep inside, the abyss begins to grow further.
Hissing and cackling, the abyss' hold begins to tighten, gripping my heart and mind in a vice, unrelenting force applied to both, and no means of escape.
I cannot face the oncoming storm alone. No Elysian wonderlands for me to escape to - the bitter reality of my predicament has reached my doorstep, and I cannot face it alone.
15 years have led to me approaching this crossroads.
15 months have allowed this journey to take its course and culminate in December.
15 days will be enough for me to make a choice, a choice I wish I did not have to make.
Either stop my world from burning and take back what is rightfully mine - or let my life, my being and my very psyche be consumed by the fire within.
The moment is nearing. It grows ever closer, slowly but inexorably making its way to me, and I will have to decide.
Will I fail doing the right thing... or succeed in choosing the wrong path?
That now, is a story for another day.
"Great men are forged in fire.
It is the privilege of lesser men to light the flame... whatever the cost."
Source of image: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Abyss-140084085
No comments:
Post a Comment