I apologize in advance; I don’t want to bore you with these things. I know sooner than later I will be speaking alone to the abyss; my voice a fading echo traveling through stale air, reaching no ears.
Nobody will hear.
The pain, the fear. I want to run. Faster than the wind outside these walls. As fast as light. Maybe then I could assure escape from these heavy leaden thoughts weighing in the back of my head.
Have you ever felt invisible hands choking your neck, squeezing out infinite tears from below your eyes?
‘Look, it’s not so bad,’ they say. ‘At least you have your health.’ ‘Your youth.’ ‘Have not lost a child.’
But as surely as I cannot experience the world from your perspective, you can’t from mine. And yet I try, and ask for you to understand.
Here I am, at 4 am, waking, shaking, drenched in freezing sweat, hands fumbling, searching frantically for the light, terrified, desperately fumbling, frantically searching for the light.
Oh, that there were monsters under my bed, as when I was a child. Oh, that the rays of light could dispel these choking fears. Old habits die hard; my searching, fumbling hands. The light, like your words, is cold comfort.
The monsters are in my head.
To run. Faster than the wind outside these walls. As fast as light. Maybe then…