Animum Regis

My story still continues... Helping people is difficult, don’t get me wrong, but I still do it day in, day out. In return, what do I get? It doesn’t matter. I never have done it for personal gain, I never helped for personal punishment. I have gotten in return appreciation, which was nice. I have gotten in return a knife between my ribs, which left me scarred. It didn’t kill me, but am I stronger?

Their faces never leave, they who left. This path I walk on is not the path it started out to be. It grew along with me. The highway to recovery, but not my own. Many a path connected to mine. They who needed someone to listen, they who needed someone for advice, they who needed someone to hate and beat, and they who needed someone to love.

I accepted all comers, I took, I take all their punches. I revel in the happiness they emit, I grovel in the space they leave behind. I repeat the mistakes in my past just so they can learn from them too. This story of mine has no end, and I don’t think it ever had a beginning. My soul feels aged a millennia. How many lifetimes have I trodden down this path? How many rebirths? A rebirth means a second chance, I’ve had many, but the path never changed. What did I do wrong? A soft whisper comes from within. You still haven’t met them. And until then you shall be condemned to put one foot in front of the other and keep searching. They need you, and you need them even more.

And so my story continued, and ever further I walked. Then came another, different from the rest, wrapped in robes of pain. I readied myself and dived in to help. But I remembered that whisper and I fixated on it and I changed. No resemblance to my true self, I changed. The voice tried to speak to me, but I shot it down, I got this I said... How foolish was I? Burned, broken, bruised... I was left in the gutter... I put myself there. My breath was ragged, I wanted to give up the path. Drop down and let the next life take over. And then the doors shutting up the voice broke open. IT’S NOT HER!!!! Too much, too late...

My story still continues... I crawled down the path, now it was I who needed help, I needed someone to heal me. But as the months passed, no one came along... No one to help, only those seeking it. I was ready to stop crawling, and the end of my wits... Another path connected to mine... No, please go away... I turned away my face... A week passes, they didn’t go away. Curious, I turned my head, a hand, battered and bruised as me, even more so, lifts my head. My eyes get blinded, but it didn’t hurt. I cried, years, lifetimes of bottled-up pain rips out of my soul and they take it. They accepted me for who I am. This feeling, what is it? It is not something that I’ve felt before, no wait, I did... But it’s not the same. It feels like... home... feels like L... you know the word.

My wounds, they were fading, far faster than I ever could imagine, my soul was no longer screaming, it purred content. They needed help, but helped me first, not so I could help them, but so they would no longer see me suffer. My story still continues... but I no longer feel alone. My story still continues... no longer one of pain and suffering, but one renewed with life and hope. The path ahead used to be clear - clearly with no end. But now it's full of choices, each one of which I want to explore. Now you’re all caught up with my story, but my story still continues. What lays ahead? I no longer know, but I will brave it hand in hand, souls intertwined, ribbon held tight...

Think, think, think... You just keep thinking, always thinking, never resting, forever floating in the turmoil-ridden seas that make up your thoughts. You wish for things, you long for things, you think you deserve things... But do you really?

There it is... That little voice without a voice. He, she, it, they, talking, planting ideas, telling you it can’t happen. Lose hope, you don’t deserve it. Why should you of all people deserve happiness when so many don’t have a modicum of the privileges you hold in disregard? But the tune it sings changes, every second of every day, that demon on your shoulder screeching horrible thoughts in complete silence. The angel on the other whispering wonderful thoughts that deafen you...

They wage war with each other, two sides of the same coin, the battlefield your fragile wasteland of a mind. Once home to wondrous wonderful things, to where you could escape from the world. Oh to be young and naive again.

On one end, a whisper; you will be okay, you have people who love you, you have people who care, you need not cling, you need not hold so tight, let them grow so you may grow.

Almost immediately, a scream responds; you are a mess, you sad pathetic creature, you are an anomaly, a mistake, no one needs you, they use you. Be the weed you are and strangle their lives, strangle so they may feel your pain. Scream!! You disgraceful thing. You don’t exist otherwise. Let them die with you. Let them leave. Stay alone with me, you know you want to...

The whispers are barely audible, you can't hear them anymore, the light is getting dimmer, you’re spiralling. Calling for help where no help will come. What do you do? What do you say?

You wake up from your stupor. You realize all of this happened in the blink of an eye. But you feel the scars. You feel the pain welling in your chest. Every happy song brings you nothing but pain. Every smile looks fake. What do you do? What can you do?

I feel empty inside... No matter what I do or say, it’s never right. I do either too much or never enough. Why? Why? Why is it never right? Is it me? Is it the world? Am I blind to what is happening in front of me? Or am I not destined to be happy?

I honestly can’t say if i  know anyone who is going through the same. To me, I am alone, I have no one to really confide in. I have shared a lot with people close to me, some more than others. But I never truly shared the most important things about me. I can’t

That hollow feeling hurts, its both physically and mentally jarring. I look for things to ease the pain. I cling to the things, the people, that ease it ever so slightly. And then I grip, tighter and tighter, until it chokes and then tighter still. A spiralling loop, a whirlpool of dismay.

I draw closer and closer to what lies at the centre, but i do not know what awaits me. It frightening, and the more i fear it, the faster it closes. What will become of this pitiful flame amongst the bonfire that is humanity. All i can do is wait, wait till I end, wait till the insignificance is washed over and replaced by another.