The First Slither Of Ectasy
I came to in the morning to find that I had no aim, no work, no classes. Everyone in my mind was either busy or at work and to tell them what had happened, seemed like passing on some trauma to someone who didn't need it. They didn't need to know, to understand, but it felt as though my life had been torn from my grip overnight and i didn't know how to cope. Even though I knew I seriously needed help - at that point - I kept thinking that there was no one I could tell that it wouldn't cause unnecessary hurt for them. It was nothing to do with them. It was nothing to them.The entire day I spent on the living room rug. almost hugging it. Aching for the memories of my parents home it smelled of. From when life was nice and less complicated. The pastel-coloured tracery reminding me of the gentle grandeur that comes with the family surroundings. This turned my mind to the Catholicism in my youth and the melodrama of coming out to my parents and suddenly the past [2 years, 6 months and 18 hours] seemed so selfish, so pointless because it was a waste of time. ===== Then I could hear the windows. Loud on that night. they spoke to one another of the yawning boats in the harbour, the soft traffic and hubbub of the night. Dirt-clad and single-glazed, they blushed vibrant reds, greens, blues and yellows and cast sickly silhouettes across the living room. After a while, I noticed the chiming of clock bells. There was the town's one which big and heavy and the top of the street, and the small harbour clock at the bottom. The latter being 2 minutes behind the first. And the first being so big, rattled the street every quarter past, half past, quarter to and on the hour which was then followed by a jingle. The vibrations shook my street, shook my flat and echoed into my bones. In the last 20 or so hours, I had not heard a single one. It annoyed me, to be alarmed from my almost spiritual self-revelations. So it seemed, Time itself was telling me to move, to do something. After counting beyond ten jingles, I slowly lifted my head. Bathing in pure morning light. Panic struck me, I hadn't ate in, ...however long, I hadn't been to the bathroom either?! My limbs followed my head, and like a marionette doll I stiffly got up. I felt my skin peel off the carpet from the cold fibres and dragged my legs to bed. I could feel light cracking where my skin moved or rubbed, red from the dried tears. I went to pick the sleep out of my eyes but when my fingers reached into them, there was none. A thick jelly seeped from my bottom lids. I couldn't cry, it ached when i felt it and the pain stung so i suppressed it. Skin on linen and my mind fluxed. Like the power button on a phone, my mind wiped clean and I lay my empty head into the pile of pillows. A strange feeling began to stir. It was as if my mind was floating next to the door, resisting the end of a day and watching my shell move into the duvet. I did not pass away or even maim my body that night, yet some stuff in me died at that moment. I did not mourn the loss of my mentality. I said goodbye with contempt, like finally accepting the time to click on you laptop recycle bin and say goodbye to those ...files you don't look at anymore. Each thing that went, went quickly. The next emotion to affect me would change everything for a long time and set me on the greatest course of life-lessons. I must have tripped into a portal or something? Another dimension perhaps? ...and I would enjoy every inch of distance.. Before I fell asleep, before I closed my eyes, I could only say one thing to myself, only think one thing to myself, "FUCK IT!".
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