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Personal Sharings / Healing Fragmentation
I lie at the bottom of a deep, dark well.|
I am limp and helpless, there is no fight left in me.
I am trying to die. I have been trying to die for a very long time.
I cry and moan, weak, hoarse tears. I beg for mercy. Please... help me die.
I know I am garbage. I don't understand how or why. It doesn't matter. I have no place in this world, in this universe. There is no space for me, no need for me, no reason for me to BE. There is no loving heart to hold me and comfort me. I do not belong here. Some accident of fate left me here, first in the darkness alone, and then later, here in this cold heartless world.
I lie in the dark and weep.
I hear a small voice taunting me, telling me I am good for nothing, feeling sorry for myself. But this... it's not even self-pity. Self-pity has a small measure of hope in it, and these tears have no hope in them. None at all.
I don't understand why I can't die. I don't understand what this spark of life is that I keep finding within me. Again and again I have pushed it out of me, this knee-jerk instinct for survival. Again and again I have squeezed it down and out of me, trying to quiet its voice, send it out to heckle someone else. Leave me in my silence and let me die.
Each time I grow quiet and still and barely breathing, I find another spark. How deep must I go? How far must I delve to kill this spark of life within me? How does it come to be, when the rest of me wants so badly to DIE??
Some part of me is dimly aware of these sparks that I've pushed out of me. I see them living in the world... and with such ferocity. They dance a dance of life that is defiant and voracious. They threaten to eat the world with their hunger.
I realize I am responsible for the pain they are causing.
I am so sorry, I weep and wail. I am sorry. I didn't mean to cause more death. I thought by trying to die I would be removing the suffering. I have always brought death and pain to those I loved. I was trying to end it, remove my poison love, remove myself.
Do you hear me, God? Do my wails reach your hardened ear? I'm sorry!!! I was trying to die! I didn't mean to cause more harm! Why is it everything I do goes wrong??? Why won't you help me go out of existence??? I can't do anything right, I can't even die.
I feel your hatred for me. Sometimes it comes like a knife in the dark, slicing me, feeding on me, sucking my bleeding wounds and then leaving me weak but still alive. Sometimes it's an anvil, pressing down and down and down, crushing the breath out of my lungs, laughing as my bones crack. Sometimes it's silent eyes in the night, watching, blinking, malevolent. Keeping me in a constant state of terror.
I don't understand why you hate me so much. Can't you see I'm trying to die? Don't you see how hard I'm trying? If your hate wants me dead, why don't you help me die???
Perhaps you don't want me dead. That little voice whispers that you want me alive but ... quiescent. Unconscious. Without identity. An energy you can feed on and use, but not have to consider as an independent being. I have no idea how to do that. I have no idea how to BE, but NOT BE.
I cry and cry, such piteous, burning tears. Weak, rasping sobs. I long for, I wish for, I yearn for death.
I think, for a moment, maybe I'm in the wrong universe. Maybe I'm like an orphan child, thrown up on a distant shore by some strange storm that I don't remember. Maybe my true home is somewhere else.
Hope rises ... that there might actually be such a place, somewhere that I BELONG. Somewhere where people might love me, where I could live and breathe and know I'm needed and wanted? A tiny hope rises, as I try to imagine such a place.
But then I realize how stupid that is. There is no such place. This is all there is.
And I go back to trying to die.
Part Two: Shred of Red