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I don’t remember when it all went down, but it felt just like yesterday when it did.
I was home, the sun dipping over the horizon steadily as it casted long shadows of pines onto the dying grass outside, the wind outside howling low like a desperate wolf searching for its pack.
I sat at the table, slowly consuming a vague dinner that smelt like nothing and tasted like sorrow and regret, the slime texture sliding unpleasantly down my throat like phlegm. It was disgusting, but it was the only food I could obtain with the loose cash in my wallet. College was just a myth now, the thought of finishing my major down the drain from recent school debts.
The light above the table flickered once, the lightbulb dying just like the long gone hopes and dreams I once dreamt of before it all went to hell. No one spoke to me anymore, I no longer feared the silence or loneliness that came from false rumors everyone believed in. Nowadays, even stepping outside was like a curse to my own name.
I sighed heavily, my stomach suddenly tensing with an uneasy feeling. I wanted to gag, to vomit, to release these held back tears; to force them out my eyes while I retched. Yet it didn’t come. Only the bile steadily rose, claiming my throat in a burning sour gag that just made more of it rise.
My stomach clenched again, pain and burning running through my organs like hellfire. I wanted to scream. To yell to whatever god I even believed in anymore to have mercy on my weary soul for whatever sin I committed to deserve this sick torture.
Then it came, hurtling like it was in a rush. My throat burned with cruel intensity, the sour taste of bile coating every tastebud with its rancid viscous liquid, if it could even be considered that at this point. I gagged heavily, my once quarter empty place now full again. It was violently disgusting. The copper tang of blood running wild with the bile like a war for the dominance of suffering. Tears pricked the edge of my eyes as I silently wailed, pleading to be spared.
My organs contracted with pain. The type of pain that made you want to double over and cry till your lungs burst. The type of pain that made you think the devil himself had something out for you. The pain that made you think you were the poor soul god wanted dead.
Then came the maggots. Worming their way through my plate like small bags of pulsating blood. That was probably the most disgusting part of all, causing me to gag and hurl once more. More maggots. More blood. More bile. The cycle repeated till it felt like my own stomach was in my esophagus.
I wanted to scream, but the squirming maggots filled my throat like a silent threat of decay. My throat felt like it was being scratched as the small worms’ mandibles picked at the edges mindlessly for any source of substance to feed on, their small legs ticking the back of my tongue like a sharp hair that wouldn’t move away.
I sharply stood, the chair scraping across the soft wooden floors with a deafening shriek in the quiet dining room. I didn’t know where I was walking, simply letting my legs carry me through my empty house, my bare feet hitting the floor with quiet thuds. Every so often I coughed, maggots clinging to my lips, blood slipping past and trickling down the edge of my mouth, bile following in pursuit.
I walked into the bathroom, the light flickering once, twice, maybe three times before dying out and refusing to turn on, the bulb hissing faintly as it gave up on life, just as I had thought of doing several times before this moment. I washed water over my face, the coolness hitting me like a pleasant slap.
The maggots stopped, the bile and blood seemingly evaporating from my throat and mouth like nothing happened. I slammed my fist into the marble counter, cursing out every band I knew existed out of agony.
I had another episode. My fifth one that week.
Even to this day, I sigh softly, remembering how cruel god was to me those days. I picked at my food, even now. I check every inch for something small or out of place, even now.
And here I sat, alone in a cold room, the faint white walls seeming grey in the shadow, blue in the light, but nothing to my eyes. I rested my head against its soft surface in defeat, my knees pressed to my chest weakly as I tried to console myself despite it all. My dreams and hopes were crushed in a month. Friends and family cutting me off like a useless waste of air. I wanted to cry again, to sob till my heart gave way. But I didn’t. I ran out of tears long ago, unable to even whimper at the smallest bruise or sore.
Thankfully it was the last day I’d stay here in the isolated room. I smirked to myself, something that didn’t reach my eyes, but something small that made me feel lighter. I stare at the dim ceiling, illuminated by something deeper within the room I never bothered in checking.
I slowly crawled to my feet, arms forcibly tied around my chest with stiff white straps that straddled my body like an uncomfortable warm jacket I could never remove.
I stared outside my door window, people in white coats or casual wear drifting across the floor like ghosts with a purpose. I hummed to myself, an old forgotten tune as I turned, pacing around the isolated room, the tune rising in pitch as I danced alone.
Many called me insane, and I wouldn’t say no to their statement, as they were correct. They all were. So now I see, as I sing and dance to myself with a straddled coat, on why I was forgotten. Pushed aside to rot in my own bubble of insanity. Why I was cut off with uneasy stares and mumbling. Yet here I sing and dance still like I haven’t a care in the world. My feet spin and twist with elegance I thought would never return in my pathetic life.
Yet I stand, alone and isolated, in my own world of false visions and dreams. I don’t run anymore. I sing till my throat dies, dance till my feet bleed.
There’s nothing left in my cold world, yet I still make the best of it…
Even when you feel weak and hopeless, never give up. Even in the deepest parts of your life. No matter what you might suffer from, there are still people out there that will grieve for you, and will cry with you. So remember, you're never alone in these times. People will cry with you, suffer with you. But you must sing your sorrows, dance even if your limbs feel heavy and weak…
Just know, whoever you are, wherever you are, whatever you suffer from… you’ll never truly be alone, even if only pain and silence respond to your desperate cries.