All Is Forgiven

(“When I was a child, I would ruthlessly laugh at people pondering over the purpose of their being on Earth. But the older I grew, the more permissive I became with my mind, letting it look for any clues revealing the secret meaning of life.”)

T. Sharadenidze

I open my eyes. My eyelids are fighting back; they’re too heavy. It’s dark. I try to grope around to feel where I am, but I can’t do that. How long have I been asleep? I might have lost track of time. Did I go blind? No, my eyelashes are pressing against something. Why do I feel like I’m lying in a grave? Oh, definitely no need to shake a leg then. Fanatical assumptions aside, where am I?

I remember falling into a deep sleep followed by the yelp of a dog. Right now, I want to sink into the stillness of the moment, but I don’t let myself do so for the fear that the stillness I’m relishing may soon turn into a blindfold, taking away all the thrilling moments that are sometimes greater than the appeal of never-ending peacefulness.

Oh, let me clear my throat. I almost choked on my saliva. My nostrils feel itchy for some reason. I want to feel afraid and force myself to flee the dilemma but my half-paralyzed body favours all the uneasiness surrounding me.

I have to admit it – I feel kind of scared. I think back to the times I would complain about having to get up early in the morning to catch the 6 a.m. train to the city I worked (or work) in. How many things I have taken for granted in my life. A tower-long list would not take them all.

I can hear a dog yelping again and again. A terrible odor is drifting out of somewhere. I can’t tell you how disgusting it smells. I am telling myself to man up, to persevere and not let my wobbly mind put a blindfold on my eyes.

The air feels thick and heavy, just like the air in my bedroom a few hours after closing the window. My stuffy room… Oh, how much I miss it already. It was only yesterday (or maybe never) when I longed for a bigger and more comfortable room with a smaller window. I have always loved the dark. I felt more secure and cosy whenever I sat, stood, or lay in the dark. Closed blinds have always been my security blanket. But now, oh, how much I wish someone drew them and let the sunlight in.

I start questioning my perseverance. Would not it be better just to close my eyes (no use keeping eyes open when all you can see is nothing) and let this unknown force take me

to the bottom of the sea instead of holding onto the pieces of a wrecked boat?

Speaking of boats, memories, though unclear, of my past days are coming to life. In my childhood, I always approached such trivial but highly sensitive items as paper boats with personal admiration and deep thought. (I guess I just wasted my childhood). The sight of a paper boat floating on the rocking waves is not the moment to throw away, it is the moment for much-needed self-reflection. We are like gold seekers on paper boats — just think about it for a moment — sailing through the raging waves with an unwavering and never-ending desire to find a treasure island, only to chance upon worn-out shoe soles along the way. Somewhat disappoin…

Is sneezing something that can be a part of my present condition? So weird.

My mind is wandering from one dead end to another without getting my head around the situation I am in. It’s strange that the ability to think rationally is still with me. But what’s the use of logic when human nature yearns to cross the boundaries of bare facts?

The shade of terrible loneliness is teaming up with a grey-handed torturer against me. I have never felt lonely in my life until this very moment. I have always been proud of my efforts to rid my life ladder of the people who scarred my feelings. I don’t think of them as a great loss, because they would be the barriers to me living up to the expectations I set for myself. I know that with less unnecessary weight, the chain of connection will endure longer and will be easier to hold onto.

We all have life ladders to climb. I take this matter very seriously because the success or failure of each step we take up this ladder hinges on the strength of each rung. And if and when I have successfully climbed the whole ladder, (still hoping to do so), I will look for real support under each rung. I will see those who pretended to hold the rung and would immediately let it go were they to see me get closer to them, and those who mustered their strength to resist my weight from above. What would hurt the most is not the cuts or bruises on my body, but the sudden disappearance of a small consolation that my soul is crying out for right now.

I feel like I am being watched by hundreds of unblinking eyes — eyes that are giving off frost and nipping at my feet.

The undisturbed tranquility is once again rubbing loneliness in my face, making me crave even the most trying and disheartening days of my life.

I would give everything if someone made this terrible sound of yelping stop.

I can’t take it anymore. I am ready to succumb to whatever this force is. I ask you for forgiveness for everything I did to you and for everything I didn’t do, but had to do for you.

No, wait! I feel like a heavy load has been taken off of me. I can move my left hand. I must be lying a few inches above the ground. I try to reach my hand down to the ground to feel it. It’s warm and wet. I take off my blindfold (putting on the blindfold even when you wake up at daybreak. Funny, isn’t it? ) and see my bulldog staring at me.

Oh, gosh. I have to clean up the mess he’s made by my bedside.

Will I have enough time to do that?

I don’t want to miss the train.