My empire was growing stronger by the day. I had barricaded myself up in my mind. I had mastered my body and was running a tight regimen of activities to maintain the equilibrium. I had erected a solid wall between myself and the outside world. I had perfected the mask to wear to be as invisible as possible. One thing became apparent, it was now very lonely in here. A whisper would float in now and then trying to strike up a conversation and I would brush it away, pretend it wasn’t real. Eventually, though, just like the building of any relationship I began to interact. This impression, this whisper, this presence was so still and gentle that it was able to slip into my fortress of evil and nothing I could do could keep it out. It was like a fog, a mist, a vapour. It was everywhere and nowhere all at once. It wasn’t pushy or invasive. It just was. It sat in the corner observing me, never judging. Eventually I grew curious and even fond of it. I began to divulge all my secrets and wishes and dreams. It seemed to know them anyway and it felt safe and right and ok. This was my secret. This was my one source of love and hope in a cold, dark red flaring inflamed body of hate. We certainly didn’t agree on everything. I had developed a constant narrative of how shitty I was and how great I was and how unfair everything was….I would dissect and tear apart every inch of myself molecule by molecule on a daily basis telling every cell how much I detested its very existence. My friend would just hover there light a nightlight not interjecting or saying a word, just there. It was waiting, but not impatiently.
“This is not how your story ends…” The thought seemed to float in from across the veil. I was dangerously close to the edge; the place between life and death; one decision away. Sitting cross-legged, hunched over on the disgusting mattress on my living room floor, I was allowing utter defeat to wash over me; praying it would consume me and this would all be over soon.