Some mornings I wake up with a deep existential dread. It feels like my hold on life is slipping. There are no right words to describe this melancholic state of mind. I feel a great heaviness pushing me down, like I am sinking into nothingness. I feel crushed and insignificant. I cannot bear the unbearable pain of life anymore. I just want to go back to sleep. To a state where there is no breath, no skin, no me. No existence, and hence, no pain.
It feels like I’m in a vast, space-less void, incomprehensible, dark void. It is full of vacuum – A void that sucks away all light. I am being pushed in deeper and deeper. I see nothing except for a shiny, silver thread. It’s so thin, so precarious like the gossamers of a spider’s web. Yet, it is the only thing I see in my long, dark, deep void. I don’t know where the thread leads to. I keep imagining the person or thing that could be holding it out for me. I want to hold the thread so tightly, pull it to myself and become one with whatever the source is. I want my spirit and body to break into all its essence, become fluid and travel back to join the majestic being that sent the silver thread. I can’t bear this existence. I want to exist through another.
I always wonder who is on the other side. I imagine it is my mother. I have a strong yearning to break into infinitely small pieces. Into small particles, smaller than dust. To break into millions of tiny particles and to finally become one with the glowing, powerful image of my mother. Sometimes I imagine it is the man I love. I want the thread to guide me to tread the void and get closer and closer to him. I want the image of him ever present so that I can walk slowly away from the void. I want to go closer to the light and warmth that emanates from him. I want to revel in that warm feeling that feels like having a coffee on a rainy evening. He is like a source of light and I want to keep him around to escape my void. To just hold him tight and forget my void. I imagine him to be my only source of escape, my only hope.
I feel great shame. I hate my thoughts. Why do I need all these people as saviours? How can I think it is them who are sending the silver thread? Why do I want to escape my void through means that are only part of my imagination? I don’t know who sent the thread and holding it for me. I feel drained searching for the source over and over, again and again. Maybe the void is my imagination too? Maybe I will wake up one morning not to the void but to a bright, colourful world. I don’t know. All that I know is that I am deep inside a void. I keep looking for warmth in all the wrong places. I think now that the warmth should emanate from within. Until then, the silver thread is my only hope. I think it is sent by a future me to communicate that there is hope and happiness on the other side. I just need to figure out the means to unravel the light within. So that, in time I slowly glow. The embers within me would become brighter and warmer.
A large blast of warmth
An annihilation of everything dark
The vacuum, the sludge, the shackle all shatter to pieces
The void shatters to pieces
And finally, I will be liberated.
Manastva 