Confessions of the tainted mind

If any of you have experienced withdrawal symptoms, if any one of you know what it feels like to give up a part of yourself, voluntarily resist the urge to lash back because you know that it’s inevitable and cruelly helpful in the long run, like swallowing that dreaded teaspoon of greenish goo your mom always told you would make you better when you were sick, you know what it feels to be me at the moment. Utter denial helps people get through their lives, how is it that it doesn’t even reassure me soothing self-indulgence and how is it that wishful thinking can submerge me in an ocean of illusory wisps that scatter to a million drops the moment I try to grasp it? Can it really be that spinning stars decide our destiny and moon blood makes things wax and wane?

I have never known the answer. I always pretended I did. So you might say self-denial does get you through the rough patches. Yeah, it drags you through the miles of brambles and brings you to a sticky stop bang in the middle of a stretch of quick sand you were hoping to avoid. So you stand sinking in a patch of decaying life, scathed, scarred and torn, knowing that the more you fight it, the deeper you get dragged in. I remained unaffected while the rest cried, I guess loneliness is a curse that hits some later than others. I believed I was strong. To ward off pity and sympathy and display an aversion to any kind of weakness was my salvation, my bane. Thriving on discarded emotions was never the strong way. Stoically bearing pain and pleasure was the bridge that connected the two halves of my conflicting being. Maybe that’s the reason I find myself ripped, subdued. I never tried to be difficult. If I was ever short with anyone or seemed to argue vehemently, I was only being frivolous. No, I was proud. Vanity is a merciless, untamed spear that drives itself into the hearts of those you love most, and it makes you blind enough not to realize that it is you who wields it. I spent the day with my closest friend today( If I would ever admit that I was capable of possessing a best friend, she would be it). Things seemed somewhat…different. Nothing really seems the same after the scathing storms have wiped off the translucent beauty of the land, even the sunshine seems to reveal destruction in fields that had once been innocent. Drops bleed away the salt from your eyes and all you see through the film of ethereal nothingness…is pristine clarity. Clarity that reminds you that there is nothing in the world that could make things the way you really wanted it to be. Hands sweep the sands off the pale face of time twice a day, but is the faint background hidden away behind the black markings really white? Is there anything that can be whiter than white itself?

Once again I do not know the answer. How hard is it to pretend you do? How hard is it to shape faith and loyalty in an empty cast? I would give anything to buy back two years of my life. I know I have never been the best friend one can have, I know there were times when I was wrong, I know what it feels like to have my life crushed by two immutable words etched on an impalpable screen, I know what it feels like to despair. I have tasted lies, I have borne troubles I should not have had to shoulder, I have kissed the writ that commands undying bonds to be sacrificed on the altar of hope…I have lived. I have lived with you, I could ever have asked for better friends. Never let the past weigh you down…..Remember how the bitter goo always made you feel better in the end….