Friday, October 29, 2010

Two Doors Past Serenity

By: Shawn Strasburg

             There has never been a soul liberated from the isolation that binds me. The overbearing seclusion suffocates every thought trapped within these walls. Every effort to cope within these harsh confines returns null and void. Even though I know it to be a lost cause, I need to find freedom from this psychological oppression. I want to lose myself and fade into the oblivion of my mind. Unfortunately, that in itself is a formidable quest. Over time, my thoughts and dreams were lived out and mentally digested. These dreams were disassembled, resurrected and relived in desperation, yet they quickly lost all flavor. So much so, that before long in their stale redundancy, even the faintest spark of their magical ability to enthrall my mind was vanquished. This bland illness spread rapidly, threatening to crush even my will to live. Such impotent thoughts, once utterly exhausted, failed to bring even the slightest morsel of despair with their demise. They in themselves become nothing.
                But nothing to live for is not the end, nor is it even the beginning of the end; It is just that, nothing, a void. I fear that my union to this vacuity is sealed with eternity. Death has long since failed me; it can bring no reprieve, for there is no death. In my bondage, they suffer me no object in which to hasten deaths
slow hand. I am naked in this cell of padded walls. The floor and bed are formed from a singular piece
of indestructible foam. I have plunged from my two-foot high bed, to no avail, and even landing headfirst only produced headaches and defeat as injuries. I thoroughly invested myself in the fine art of strangulation. Yet my futile attempts soon revealed themselves to be a waste. Too often, I awoke with hands draped helplessly around my neck, no longer engaged in the fierce crushing battle they had once fought. Although that brought much frustration, in time, even that feeling was lost and inevitably became nothing.
                Thoughts are such frail beings and with their expiration, I grasped desperately for the smallest thread. With no new stimulus or situations, my mind turned moldy, fetid. The stagnate pool of my brain began to register days as weeks, then months, and even centuries. In a minutes glance, years were lost, never to be acknowledged. I found myself unbearably sane; wishing for insanity, even knowing it might lead to a more ghastly prison. There seemed such little chance that I could ever get lost in the intangible waves of it’s instability. No such thing could be. Insanity has never been wished into being, and is seldom, if ever denied. It is certainly not a creature of command. Yet, that thought gave me a small hope; a spark smoldering in the rotten leaves of my mind. That was something, before it too faded.
                The light in my cell died and with it my eyes, I only realized my loss long after it’s demise.
Like a comatose patient with black distant vision, I was astoundingly aware of my body, but unable to facilitate its function. The lost light had mercilessly burned my eyes and though I tried to accept this reprieve like a gift, or a reunion to a long lost friend, the darkness soon overstayed its welcome.
                I was afflicted by this new companion and distressed by the shadowed noises that tormenting my mind. I knew fear and it roughly held me. As time has no meaning in total darkness, I thought I had fallen into a perpetual well of agony. Gradually fear’s cruel grip lessened and I realized that these black noises were given birth by my lost body. I longed for the light and begged for a scrap of hope, dreaming that somehow the light would return. Yet I was shunned as I waited on the edge of my bed for decades waiting for it to come again. It seems as though I have lost so much…
                I was struck by the resounding dismay of my vanity, I lay resigned, motionless, staring at an
imagined ceiling. The thought of light was dancing just beyond reach. A century had gone by without a
shimmer of luminescence. A dungeon of nothingness now replaced the stark white cell I had been imprisoned to. I had never been able to grasp the dimensions of my chamber through the blizzard of light
that reflected again and again to an infinity absent of color or contrast. Gradually the thick strangling blanket of night became a comfort after the oblivion of light.           
                Still, I often felt abandoned and I was slowly immersed into the fullness of despair. I had been severed from all human contact and in that lack of being I felt as though I had disincorperated. I am but a wraith, a mind floating in a cell of minute yet infinite structure. In the light I had been afraid of being washed into the white flood; I feared I would never return to my bed, the only anchor of my existence. Now in this dark realm my wraith wanders, ever exploring. I found that in total darkness, nothing exists until you will in into being. In these wanderings, I discovered boundaries, either empowered by my subconscious or imported by some being greater than I. Perhaps if my mind were not so thoroughly petrified, I could reason a way beyond my vague borders. Yet in the end, all that I am able to conjure is my bed, so I return to its comfort when my curiosity is sated.
                I no longer desire the things of the body and perhaps that will lead to the conclusion of my
disenchantment. I am not even certain that I still lay resting. My awareness seems to fragment more and more. Much passes by me with no recollection and I have no knowledge of this lost time, I either am or I am not. As time never seems to shift or perhaps flees at a ridiculous rate, I linger. Perhaps my cell will open or stay forever sealed. When forever is never and death is not; everything has become nothing….yet am I?

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