I don’t even know where to begin.
For the last few years, everything in this life has been making a deliberately phlegmatic and agonising descent into an ebonized abyss of doom. And though I’ve remained somewhat calm and optimistic thus far, the last few weeks have seen the devastating effects of a neglected reality set in. I believed I was victoriously evading this downward spiral of mine; stalling and existing on borrowed time. I was evidently oblivious at how ensnared I truly was. This terrifying vortex swept me right off my feet and seized me many moons ago. And now that I am aware, I’ve lost my fire, my spark, my spirit.
I am completely powerless and utterly hopeless.
I’ve stood in wait for rescue. For divine intervention. For a miracle even, but alas have been granted none.
Now more than ever, do I truly feel abandoned and alone.
A crazed panic over the upcoming nuptials of my cousin had been my main priority; my primary focus. And now that it has sadly been ruled out, that barricade securely blocking out so many emotions has busted, leaving me with a tsunami of dilemma to dread. This grande mass, a tidal wave of destruction that will undoubtedly render me unconscious and sweep me out to sea. And I will allow it to do so, for all fight has escaped me. I am drained of energy and though a few lingering strands of hope remain, they too know when to bow down to defeat.
I don’t understand why? Why me? What heinous crimes have I committed in past lives or in this one to be deserving of such inexplicable nonsense? Why have I been cast aside to live a life as one who slips through cracks? A girl, invisible to all; vulgar perhaps?
Why am I the exception to the rule?
They say trials and tribulations are sent to build character, given in perfectly manageable increments. But for me I have reached my limit. I reached that limit nearly one month ago.
It’s all too painfully onerous.
Overwhelming and excessive. I can’t breathe. I can’t sleep. I can’t find equanimity. No rest for this weary soul of mine. And thus thoughts turn to bleakness, perilous and reckless forms in hopes of liberating myself from this horrible mess. Truly, the only way for any kind of salvation, for peace. This picture of mine has become so terribly distorted, no Photoshop genius would be able to reconfigure or mend it. As I see it, the only way forward it to start anew.
A blank page in a new novel. Hopefully, a completely different storyline.