Status: completed; one-shot.
Inhale. Exhale. Breathe.
1/1
Inhale. Exhale. Breathe. Blink. Repeat.
No control, no notion of your actions. A guarded barrier placed between reality and fantasy, blurring the edges, turning every ordeal into something bearable. There is no cure, because that is the cure. To idly listen while escaping to an alternative reality. It was so sweet, so desirable; it became an addiction – a problem. I wonder why this was, how my own mind created a narcotic so irresistible. To be able to grow numb, just with the bat of a lash. It was power in its most glorious form; power that only I had control over. To be able to be aware of everything, yet witnessing everything as if it was a delusion. I’d never experienced something so terrifyingly exquisite.
But there’s a flaw to every masterpiece, and my unruly addiction was no excuse. Soon, the others started to notice; take note of my behavior. They observed, they prodded, and they were fascinated. Yet, I was not ‘healed’ –as they’d said- from my ‘problem.’ Instead, it grew worse, from their perspective. I would start having mental relapses, escaping realities grasp at unsuspected moments. They were concerned. I was thrilled.
I’ve lost myself in my own sub-consciousness countless times, causing every person to grow upset with concern. It wasn’t their business to poke around into my life, my mind. But they did, and they enjoyed it. They started to ask questions, and I started to retract myself from reality more often. So sweet, so enjoyable, so calming. Soon, I was reluctant to go back. I was dying by free will.
The thought of dying never scared me, but to have the actual power to do within your grasp… that’s another matter altogether. Who knew power could be so pleasing, perfect, charming, consumable and impeccable? Yes, power was consuming my whole being, but I did not mind one tad. It coursed through my veins, after all, and I had a say on its course. I could leave to another reality altogether, just by free will. It had stopped being a mechanism of defense long ago. Now, it was the need for control that drove me towards the teetering edge.
Sometimes, you can’t keep control.
The questions returned with heavy vengeance, and I was not able to ignore them this time. They were brutal, demanding, degrading. I only wanted peace, tranquility and solitude. Yet, they tormented me to no end; they shattered my very essence with questions. I was not able to escape their cruel clutches, and soon my despair morphed into rage. I started to physically aggravate those who dared interrupt my flow of thoughts. They were distracting, they were worthless, and they most certainly did not deserve any answers.
They worried, they grew concerned, yet I did not change. I didn’t want to change anyway, per se. I was comfortable with my new self, learning how to control my lashing anger from time to time. It wasn’t as gratifying as being in control of reality and fantasy, but I settled with it. In fact, I started to take pleasure in other’s pain, noticing just how much stress would diminish whilst doing so. I had found another release, another way to evade all uncomfortable spotlights.
They kept their distance, but at the same time, they approached me in a different manner. They no longer questioned me, but now, they attacked me. Cornered like an animal, I was not able to keep a grip on control. It was inching away from me, abandoning me in the most horrific situations. I had to defend myself; I had to find an escape. But no matter how long I closed my eyes, I was still cornered – shaking.
Inhale. Exhale. Breathe. Blink. Repeat.
Sometimes, you just lose control.
No control, no notion of your actions. A guarded barrier placed between reality and fantasy, blurring the edges, turning every ordeal into something bearable. There is no cure, because that is the cure. To idly listen while escaping to an alternative reality. It was so sweet, so desirable; it became an addiction – a problem. I wonder why this was, how my own mind created a narcotic so irresistible. To be able to grow numb, just with the bat of a lash. It was power in its most glorious form; power that only I had control over. To be able to be aware of everything, yet witnessing everything as if it was a delusion. I’d never experienced something so terrifyingly exquisite.
But there’s a flaw to every masterpiece, and my unruly addiction was no excuse. Soon, the others started to notice; take note of my behavior. They observed, they prodded, and they were fascinated. Yet, I was not ‘healed’ –as they’d said- from my ‘problem.’ Instead, it grew worse, from their perspective. I would start having mental relapses, escaping realities grasp at unsuspected moments. They were concerned. I was thrilled.
I’ve lost myself in my own sub-consciousness countless times, causing every person to grow upset with concern. It wasn’t their business to poke around into my life, my mind. But they did, and they enjoyed it. They started to ask questions, and I started to retract myself from reality more often. So sweet, so enjoyable, so calming. Soon, I was reluctant to go back. I was dying by free will.
The thought of dying never scared me, but to have the actual power to do within your grasp… that’s another matter altogether. Who knew power could be so pleasing, perfect, charming, consumable and impeccable? Yes, power was consuming my whole being, but I did not mind one tad. It coursed through my veins, after all, and I had a say on its course. I could leave to another reality altogether, just by free will. It had stopped being a mechanism of defense long ago. Now, it was the need for control that drove me towards the teetering edge.
Sometimes, you can’t keep control.
The questions returned with heavy vengeance, and I was not able to ignore them this time. They were brutal, demanding, degrading. I only wanted peace, tranquility and solitude. Yet, they tormented me to no end; they shattered my very essence with questions. I was not able to escape their cruel clutches, and soon my despair morphed into rage. I started to physically aggravate those who dared interrupt my flow of thoughts. They were distracting, they were worthless, and they most certainly did not deserve any answers.
They worried, they grew concerned, yet I did not change. I didn’t want to change anyway, per se. I was comfortable with my new self, learning how to control my lashing anger from time to time. It wasn’t as gratifying as being in control of reality and fantasy, but I settled with it. In fact, I started to take pleasure in other’s pain, noticing just how much stress would diminish whilst doing so. I had found another release, another way to evade all uncomfortable spotlights.
They kept their distance, but at the same time, they approached me in a different manner. They no longer questioned me, but now, they attacked me. Cornered like an animal, I was not able to keep a grip on control. It was inching away from me, abandoning me in the most horrific situations. I had to defend myself; I had to find an escape. But no matter how long I closed my eyes, I was still cornered – shaking.
Inhale. Exhale. Breathe. Blink. Repeat.
Sometimes, you just lose control.