I have been really adamant to write because my writing would be tainted with so much pain, dark moods, sadness, grief and impossibly deep emotions that I can't even start to put down into words.
Somehow, in this bleak gloomy world, I don't want to add the same blood-dark tinted words to further lay waste in the collective glum of existence.
So, I kept my silence.
But this morning, I read some very assuring words from someone in the news, it goes a bit like this:
The beginning of the end of this madness has finally come.
And I believed it.
Finally.
Finally.
Finally.
It was a terrible underworld journey but we are still here, walking boldly, carrying our lives and our loved ones with us, fully trusting in the crack of light as we await the new dawn.
The 'death' journey for me this past week was beyond words, it was a deeper kind of purification, something I am prepared for since it happens cyclically to me, but it was something new as well. I wish I could put them in words, but words elude me.
Let me try:
It was a noisy sleep.
Noisy darkness.
The kind where you wish your brain just melts and disappears because you are haunted by so many worries, insecurities, questions, etc (maybe that's why there are dead people who have unfinished business?)
But it is more of a curse when you wake up and you have a vivid memory of the darkness and your death. You wake up and sh*t, you are still alive, though death would be kinder.
It is so easy to lose hope, lose humanness, lose yourself, lose faith, but I cannot and I do not.
I am tired of 'dying' it is not a good experience, it is something you want to forget after sleeping for two or three days straight, but you won't forget it. It is in every breath you take. It is like a dream that will haunt you, it can't let you go though you want to let it go badly.
But of course, after death, there's regeneration, rebirth, renewal.
Start from scratch again,
start again with baby steps
start again
start.
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