There is something inside me. Like a ball of desperation, itchiness, darkness, suffocation, walls closing in. It makes me imagine ripping my skin off and clawing my face off as I lie still pretending to sleep. A silent horror you can’t seem to stop or put an end to. It was waiting for the perfect time to choke and envelope you in its smoke. Wanting to look everywhere, to escape but not being able to because you don’t dare permanently leave the confines of your body and the shackles of your mind. So instead you suffer quietly, ever so silently. Not a peep except the controlled breath because those must be silent too and the tick beating against the rock in your throat. Wouldn’t want anyone to find out lest they join you making the whole ordeal unspecial, whoever said misery loves company.. lied. Loniness is what keeps misery alive. Misery loves nothing more than being misunderstood, it is an island cut off from the rest and noone would ever understand, that noone could ever love, especially yourself. But then we face an opposing demand. The need for socialization, for friends and community and family. We hide, move in secret, give but never fully all in the name of admittance. In order to overcome that we must serve something greater than ourselves, because we already established the regard for ourselves. Our redemption lies in answer the call within to the being inside us that comes from deeper, something other, something left behind in the signature of our maker. It holds us digging it claws deeper to remind – it’s there leaving us no choice but to face it sooner or later.
