Unspoken Contempt

Old New days

Every day, there is the same old routine.

I don't sleep much. I lay in bed at night, trapped within my own head. Imagine being in a cage, and surrounding that cage is every fear you ever have and will have. Now picture that cage locked, and you have the key in hand. There is an exit meters from the locked cage door, but standing on guard are nightmares. Things that would haunt you all your lives. Now, would you open the cage door and escape? Or would you lay there, vulnerable as ever - letting the darkness feed on your fear? My thoughts? Losing that key and having no option but to stay.

I once feared to go numb. I thought if I ever went numb of emotion that would be the lowest I would get. But I was wrong. One of my biggest wishes now is going emotionally numb. This pain, this rage. This isn't human. I am not human. Part of being human is dying - and I cannot do that.

...

The sun finds its way through the entanglement of my old, mangled bedroom curtains. The ray of light feels warm. Too warm. The light shines brightly with a direct beam into my eyesight, creating a temporary blind spot in the center of my vision. In reality, I don't have to leave my bed, but it's been days since my last meal and I feel my stomach eating itself slowly. I roll over, landing on the soft carpet. The build-up of dust and dirt between each individual wool strand creates a cloud surrounding my head. 

I let out a loud, painful grunt as I lift myself from the dusty floor. This is how most days start, that good ol' grunt. The thought of going to the kitchen, getting the sharpest knife, and pushing it directly into my heart finds its way back into my head. But trust me, I have tried this time after time - and if I haven't made it obvious already, I'm immortal. I cannot die. Really makes me wonder what it would be like when the universe implodes in on itself... Will I be floating in space forever?

One foot after the other, I take route to the bathroom. The build-up of liquids in my bladder over the past few days has become unbearable. What if I held it in for so long my bladder failed? Nothing. I have tried that. My body has this miraculous way of regenerating itself after any 'life' threatening wound or disease, etc.

I grasp the metallic door handle of the bathroom door. I freeze. The birds chirping melodies outside go silent, the sound of my accelerating heartbeat anchors any other. My breath wears thin as I start to choke. My throat closes in on itself as if two hands started strangling me. Beads of sweat travel down the sides of my neck and forehead as my body begins to burn up. My hand trembles on the door handle, unable to ungrasp the spherical knob. The patterned heartbeat gets deeper and deeper until it comes to a complete stop. I stand there in silence as the world spins around me.