Benevolence

Float

Drowning: It's one of the only things I remember vividly from the night of the car accident. The loss of air, the invisible pressure on my lungs, the racing thoughts... It's like hell had opened up its gates only to send its raging fires coursing throughout my body.

And now the feeling is back to haunt me.

The dream always start off the same, with me standing at the ocean's shore-- no boat or land in sight, caught in between the decision to fall amongst the crumbling earth behind me or to swim into the open mass of water that seems to go on forever on end...And though I'd fight myself on it each time, I'd always choose the latter. Believing it to be the easiest way out, I'd dive headfirst in means to come back up. But then something would grab me, and pull me down, and I'd scream a voiceless scream of iridescent gas that would float from my mouth to above my head. I'd look up and notice that the stream of sunlight penetrating the water is getting farther and farther away, and I'd reach for it until it feels as if the force of the darkness dragging me down and the force of my fight to live will tear me apart.

See, water is tricky like that. You never know what lies beneath the surface, can only see with your eyes the dominance over its claims and only submerged do you truly feel the impact of its currents.

I know what it's like to have my whole life flash before my eyes. But it's the inability to withstand the innate urge to clutch at my attachments that kill me every time. For, who are we, without our experiences, the people we think we love, the places that spark wildfires behind the darkness of our lids, or... the traumas that lead us, time and time again, to death's shores.

"There is no need for temples, no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness."

The more I ponder over these words the more I question my own strength and therefore surrender to floating...

Over the warnings of close friends.

"You think getting high together and agreeing to ignore your troubles is love? Think again, Alaina."

Over the confessions of lovers.

"I haven't felt this close with anyone— ever.... and I don't know what to do with myself."

Over the selfless promises of companionship.

"You're not alone, all right? I'm here. Always."

The problem isn't my lack of kindness, it's my lack of direction. It's easy to have everything written down, easy to illustrate and map things out, Professor. But what's to stop the self-sabotage? Where does the boat go when the sail is broken? When the temple has fallen, when my heart is slumped and shriveled up inside me, where does one go if not to those that easily replace the damage.

To lovers and friends and warm strangers...Even though they're just as temporarily written on this earth as they are in our lives?

Death touches everything. I've learned the hard way that it occupies our every thought and motivates our every move... We consume it, we bathe in it... we hold it in the palm of our hands wishing it won't find a way to seep through our fingers. But it always does, the original shapeshifter, it always reminds us that we'll never be able to control it the way it does us.

We trust in it...

My father loved to say that we create our own monsters because he was a man that effortlessly made puppets of his shadows. I wish death had given as much thought to me, as I'd given it when it took him away. Maybe I would've learned to do the same. As for now, my toes still clutch at the shifting sands, and my arms still reach for that paling stream of sunlight.

It's our brokenness that keeps us reliant, on everything living, but also on anything with an expiration. I guess the only way to avoid drowning is to float, hanging on to the things we seek in others, within ourselves. Though it is a process. The reins of fate that left me tripping out of the bar drunk and crying over my dead father whose funeral I had no business attending, said as much.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hey Lovelies,

For those of you who remember the journal entries assigned by Professor Laykin, this is Alaina's first successful attempt at journal entry #1.

As you've read she is still deeply troubled by the accident, but also by the relationships that she has depended on to keep her happy/distracted.

Any thoughts, predictions?
Let me know 😏

Until next time,

—Afisha ❤️