The silence is back; I guess he never left.
The darkness is here, too; I hate it when it’s light.
I can’t stop feeling; a door that should never have been opened screams it will never close again.
He is clawing at my mind; his silent hate fills up my space with lies and love profound and when he looks into my eyes I know that only his truth can release me.
From what? This life? This moment? This feeling? Fear?
“The darkness, sure and silent, grows fast beyond my reach.” The old refrain stings, harsh welts of pain rise up to echo that in this moment, right now, the only thing that matters is the craving.
Such delicious deliverance! To let go of the relentless sobriety, to give up on sanity and accountability and ‘to do’ lists and smiles and Doing The Right Thing and favours and just showing up – to let go and sink beneath the dark where even he can’t find me, just so long as one more line, one more hit can keep me from hearing that silence he drags across the floor.
Oh God! His constant presence! His endless torment of moderation and responsibilities. Of always being aware of the passage of time with no meaning; of watching tomorrow’s broken promises dissolve into yesterday’s regrets, crushed by the never-ending pressure of today’s attention-seeking missiles ambushing every single moment of every single day.
There is no peace in the quiet, no distraction in the chaos. All I want is more. More than enough to take the edge off. Give me enough to take me over the edge, past the point of caring – make mine an all-nighter, a one-way ticket stamped with “No Return”.
I resent you, sobriety. I hate your unending boredom, and the mundanity of life. I detest your domesticity and rules designed to starve my soul. And I fucking hate that you feed me feelings and emotions and shit I never wanted anything to do with.
Most of all I hate that you unleash him – my inner child – who stands there staring, expecting, demanding. I hate that you power these words and breathe an ugly life into them that seeds all your ugliness into everyone around me; that by posting this I will be called on to explain myself, to assure everyone that “No, I’m fine, really. It was just a moment. It will pass.” And “It’s a creative writing exercise” and “I’m exploring the dark”.
I hate your dishonesty and the lies that you live, because to be anything other than a smiling idiotic joker is the only way that they will leave me alone and not fill me up with their anger and their fear. I hate you for that, for making them care and for making me feel when they do.
All I want is a line, stretching from now to the end of time. Ha! End of the line. That’s what I want.
Deliverance. Freedom from everything. Letting go and giving up. No words. No feelings. No people. Just darkness and wild, chaotic music and an ocean of chemicals to mix them in.
Deliverance. Ah, yeah!
© Dave Luis 2017. All Rights Reserved.
PS: This is not a cry for help. This is just a flood of feelings working themselves out. I am fine. This is fine. It’s fine.
Image by Jeremy Cai at unsplash