A Hopeless Journal for A Helpless Man

Chapter 2: Consumption

"This land is home." - I said as I layed face up on the sand.

"I can't help it."

I continued to stare at the sun. My eyes were surprisingly resistant. I could make out the sun as a sphere, not just as that usual nuisance of a blinding light. My expressions were of a joyful kind, but my mind was ablaze attempting a retaliation against my destined consumption.

"I'm returning to my home."

The sand under me began to move. I lay calm and with a permanent grin. My mind was not as my body. I felt various pulsating and desperate thoughts as my body accepted it's descend back to the land. It felt as if there was a single rioting prisoner trapped forever in my brain, watching himself be devoured by his detached body, which sank into the land with no hesitation whatsoever. And with a last "TAKE ME!" came hands from the land to swipe me back home.

I woke up immediately.

Who says you can't die in your own dreams? If I am dying anyway, I might as well formulate scenarios about it's process. My death is as certain as physics and as equally undefiant. My brain is already half functional, why not just save death the hassle. I'm as much a stranger to this place as I am to myself. I'm unable to remember what happens. I relay the feelings that come up in each situation. The situations, however, are slowly forgotten. My mind has no space in it to remember events, only emotions. I have forgotten what it is to remember and now I begin to associate everything with agony. It is as if suddenly you woke up and you were stranded. No warning (from what I remember), no reason (from what I could formulate), and no rescue (from what seemed logical).

I managed to make myself a little shade. I had already experienced the scorching sun here once and I wasn't about to again. It had already started its process to drain me of my energy, and so far it was succeeding. The shade was exactly that, a shade. Not a hut or anything special. It was a couple of fallen palm leaves I had recovered, that I had laid diagonally on a rock. I prayed for no wind. It's harder than it looks once you actually feel and breathe the situation. Eventually the situation sinks in to your soul and, evidently, you hopelessly go with it. I imagine most people would just say that they would push on and survive through these situations. The truth is, no one is prepared. Spontaneous hazards and obstacles are constant. Some things are just impossible to surmount. Understand that I'm not talking about physical obstacles, but literal mental blocks. I'm talking about life threatning, soul crushing, pessimist, and belief doubting thoughts that only come about in drastic situations simultaneously. This gets you thinking, and once you start, you can't stop. It's all you think about. Sometimes it's best to just never put yourself in these situations by formulating scenarios in your mind and affirm that uncertainties thrive on belief. This isn't advice for me, it's far too late for me. I'm not even two days in and I'm already losing my goddamn mind. The pessimist in me prevails, the realist flourishes, and the optimist never had a chance. The first two devour the latter in a way that not only leave scars, but open wounds and gashes that when left untouched, grow infected and remain irreparable forever. I fear these thoughts will never end. My mind has become a breeding house for them. I'm not a fortunate man at all.

I'm going to rest a bit.

I've been pulled homeward against my will... again.

My dreams are horrible.

Now even sleep is tormenting. I guess I should embrace the fact that I can even fall unconscious, if only for awhile. I can't though. Not with what goes into my mind. The purpose of sleep is to feel rested afterwards. Everything but that is happening. I feel as if my downfall is inevitable, clouding and consuming me. My body, my mind, my thoughts, and my dreams. Hopelessness. It's all that I have. I don't know what to make of it. I'm dying in my dreams. That was an unnecessary warning. I've already been reassured of death long ago. Ever since I realized my situation, I never formulated a scenario where I would come out of this alive. The process of my death, however, vary in the most abundant of ways. It's ironic, but expected. I'm certain that death approaches eagerly and with his utmost enthusiasm. Early or late, slow or fast. Nevertheless, my most prioritized uncertainty is how death will envelop upon me. If anything, it has already begun. Since the moment that I awoke here, the process of death is currently under way. Slow and agonizing, but certain.