Darkness, it was here again. After all these months of vacillation, the voice lurking in my visceral darkness finally came back.
No need for it to scream, I was ready. Sadness and loneliness overcame me again. Cruel liminality, a point of breakdown, a breach in the void and I crumbled like a piece of ashes.
Indeed, I do not feel like the protagonist of the story of my life, but it is. It ; my darkest side, the self at its lowest defining the self as a whole.
In a room I rented for free, defiled with my filth, I met with my projection, my animagus ; a black fly. It was small, not lurking in the darkness but seeking for the light…The fly was me.
As I grabbed the red cup on my sink, I tried to catch it in vain, so I sprayed it. It was gone… after reaching for the light one last time, it fell, appearing dead to my satisfied eyes.
However, loneliness stroke again like a thunder, and I did it again. I destroyed myself when finally agreeing on finding peace with myself.
So I went oustide to breath clean air, to wash up my sins which were piling up like in a dumpster. And as I reached out for my door nob, trying to rationalize myself, I saw it again.
There it was, the nightmarish visualization of my sins. It was back again, but this time, it did not let me kill it.
And here I stand, back on my dirty bed that I wish I could burn down, crying dust as I dream of the death of me.