I found myself caught inside of a trap, lost deep in oblivion. I tried desperately to pull myself out but found my feet stuck in the muck. I tugged and pulled, trying with all my might to release the grip of the Earth on me. I looked up, and could see up and out of the tunnel. There was a radiant glow of warmth just outside my reach; it taunted my exhausted inability to seize it.
Twisting and turning I managed to dig further into the hole, and the light diminished before me. My feet had failed, and I slipped so far beyond my control. Aimlessly moving, without grasp of foreshadow, I lost my grip and fell into the Earth.
After an extended period of time I began to lose hope and determination. I let the self-destructive tendencies in my brain burst and flood through my body like a melting iron weight. It was burdensome, so erroneous. I was captivated however with the suffocating feeling of depravation. It called to me in the depths of uncertainty and leeched into my pores. My brain swelled and slowed to an almost halt. Signals and stems popped and were lost forever inside of my brain, leaving me somewhat bewildered and lost in a fading buzz. In the depths of indecency I split the verdict, and determined deep within that there was a luster in the pending darkness. It struck me thoroughly and overwhelmed my senses.
The darkness was smooth and symmetrical. It balanced the equation of all life. In its’ presence, a million people in one place, without knowing, may all feel alone and numb. The darkness transcended time; it masked it with its’ cloak and choked it out. After too many lost moments in the darkness I lost the ability to count. It was arbitrary and unreasonable in the given climate. It distracted the perversion of sight. Without sight and without time, I felt that I was slowly slipping into the deep depths of the world, and became the essence of purity, lost forever in my own doldrum.
In the doldrums I rarely felt the presence of being out of it. It captivated my senses and slowed everything down entirely. It is a strange phenomenon that can consume life in a matter of moments. It can take ahold of the strongest, most able-bodied person and twist thoughts into a delusion. The darkness is the doldrums best friend, working together reverently. Once fallen, trapped in a meditative doldrum, the darkness quickly takes ahold, and the pressure can become to much for any soul to conquer.
It took so long to comprehend that I was lost in my own darkness. Even before the fall, consumed by the darkness, the light was always misinterpreted. I looked at the light as a burden in itself. Its’ vibrant, radiant beauty darkened my soul. It left a foul taste in my mouth. I thought it to be contrived, and desperate for life. The life that it evoked only defied me further and brought me to my knees in defeat. Life seemed fleeting as it shifted into night. Every darkening stroke of color left me feeling more empty. I felt that I had lost something each day that I would never get back, and looking at it individually, I couldn’t tell whether or not I had done anything special with it. Nothing felt everlasting. And for that, I recoiled back in my own desperate destitute.
I built a city in tunnels. I lived underground in my mind, far off the beaten path. I was under the human race, tucked deep within the enchanted soil. Calculating and calibrating constantly I pushed forward in the realm of darkness, searching for the ultimate seclusion. I always fought looking up, it seemed too much like a vicious trap, with that wondrous illumination. I found solace in the dead and decayed. I found them and excavated their bones, dissecting the fabric that lay eaten and withered over their dirty form. Unto me they looked simplistic in form, and couldn’t fathom their once breadth of life.
Death felt to me as the ultimate peace and security. Birth flattered me none; I felt pity for the breathing. Trapped in a aging body for the rest of their existence, searching in vain for some mysterious great awakening. When my father was placed in the ground, encased in his dusty, camouflage box, there was a sense of relief for him while I stood drowning in sorrow. I realized later that this sorrow was that only of my own. I knew that my family felt this sorrow, and that we shared this same emotional event, yet it felt that I was only in my own head. Billions had done and passed throughout the course of history, and many of them had died in incomprehensible situations, such as that of war or famine.
My father had none of these in-ailments. He was free from the discerning eye in the sky. He went, just as he had come, with a spark of ferocity in his eye. There were no premonitions in the sequence of events, no sure-fire signs, or warnings. When the wave crashed, it fizzled out slowly and hit the coast. He rode his wave for fifty-one years, and finally came to shore on a dismal Wednesday afternoon. I fell into miserable despair. He had been searching for his rainbow, and at last, just before the final chapter was played out, his feet drummed to the melody of inevitability.
The next few months I unleashed the depths of my sorrow and basked in it thoroughly. I was cold and put off. Nothing that is, meant anything that was, and that was that. In my cinderblock hole I let the cold wet the floor and walls. It called to me. The colonies of spiders stampeded, setting their webs up wherever they pleased. I had grown so dead to the world that I noticed not the moldy, rotten food in my refrigerator and the stacking dishes. I loathed sleep and loathed being awake. I was a vampire of this world, forever blinded by the light and consumed by the impending darkness.
It engulfed me and I let it in, blotting out the relationships in my life. In that time I felt I couldn’t handle another abrupt ending and felt the upmost need to snuff out the life that I still knew. Work seemed tedious and erroneous, so I abandoned it. I abandoned life altogether.
The definitive reason for all this was that I saw no purpose to anything anymore. Life seemed fleeting and archaic, so immature. There was no reason for the stars to shine at night, no reason for me to look up at them and ponder their significance. For, if I am to die just like the rest, and nobody will ever remember or understand the dead, then what purpose should be given to the living? Death, my arch enemy, soon became my savior. I yearned for it, thinking deeply for months about it. I yelled at death to stop teasing me, like the House of Usher, just let me fall. Death, I found out, did not want anything to do with me yet, and for this I suffered all the more.
I spent enduring hours wasting in the candlelight of a cinderblock structure. It started to cultivate a sort of mold in myself. I began to decay physically, cognitively and emotionally. The lives that filtered their way through my defense were ignored or batted away like a fly buzzing around one’s ear, constantly nagging and perpetuating the irritation that brewed deep within me.
Inside my darkness I tunneled through the realm of the subconscious and fired my missals. I wanted so desperately to destroy my notion of life and tear out the roots of my existence. Leave every trace of my life buried deep inside a dark hole; a hole that would collapse on itself and forever be lost in complete oblivion. I filtered through the mixture of clay and dirt and found a lost tunnel that I experienced once before, and tremors ran through me with the very thought of it.