In The Dark Nothing Is The Same

(originally composed 2/6/2010)
Oh God, what have I done? Am I so willing to throw it all away? Am I truly that weak? Has there been no progress, no achievements, no wellness at all to be discovered? What happens when the dark descends once more and I am adrift in the cold, cold night? I stumble. I fall. I break down and none of it matters anymore. Wracked with sadness, with anger, with a disgusting self-loathing that is surely unnatural. Where is my reason now? My sanity, my sense of rationalism. I live by a strict dogma of reasonable understanding, so why must my mind fail so quickly to uphold that?

I really don’t even know I’m doing it, do I? It grins up at me like a smiling idiot. It’s lips bright red, gaping. Smiling at me. It makes me happy, doesn’t it? No of course it doesn’t. There is no joy in it, it’s a pain, any pain that isn’t that old pain. It is sharp, burning, crisp. For an instant it will replace that thick, dull, resounding pain and in that there is some emotion. Some something, whatever the fuck it is. The steel is cold in my fingers but it breathes and grows warm at my touch. It is another soul. It is a soul that is stronger than mine. I touch it to my skin and it opens me up, easily. Its power is so much greater than my own. It opens me up and lets me bleed out. For an instant I feel.

In a perfect world, but no. There is no time for such driveling, such pointless speculation and dreaming. This is no perfect world, it is but our world. This world is not but an oversized urn and all of us in it ashes of something that was once beautiful, once human. In a perfect world I wouldn’t need it. I wouldn’t need any of it. I could deal with my problems, I could deal with my feelings. I wouldn’t be plagued by guilt, confusion, uncertainty. I would once again know where I stood. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t need her in order to feel human. In a perfect world, but no.

I am so ashamed of it all. I had such potential. And look at me now. Look at my arm, marked with ugly red lines. Look at the spotted rag next to me, the shame I feel, hiding it all away. In the end, my sad, sad eyes won out. My mind couldn’t keep up with my mind and in the oasis I found nothing but a mirage. My long quest for peace, for solitude and happiness did not end at the edge of a whispering river. No, it ended with bitterness. It ended with a dry, pitiful exhaustion. A fit of shaking and screaming and then quiet. There was no rest here.

I have a long life ahead of me and I know that somewhere out there is my peace. Somewhere is my happiness. Outside the snow is still and quiet. Inside I am tired and sweating, weak and scared. But one day winter will turn to spring. We will all thaw out and grow bright and colorful again. Somewhere is my sun hiding behind a cloud, waiting to come out and shine its warm light on my face. I will find it. I will live to find that warmth, that peace. But there is a long, hard winter ahead of me and as long as it is my arm will be scarred and ugly. And for that I am so sorry.


Hare Krishna