Hell

My body is tired. I can barely sleep these days. When every thought is a painful return to the morose musings that maintain my misery. I remember walking down that road, beautiful in its simplicity. Walking listening to the wind, and hearing each footstep against the hardened dirt path. That ditch where there were so many other footsteps. I wondered if they were just as desperate and lost as I. When eyes meet mine, there is no sense of sanity anymore, my gaze is wild, my stare is infinite. No more soul behind these windows, no more depth. Only shallow visions, only pain. What was it that was lost, who has forsaken me that I must endure this world in solitude?

It wasn't always this way. I can take myself back through the years, through my head. In these recollections I can smile, almost entirely out of madness, I smile. I look back on the day when I sat in my garden weeding through the unwanted foliage and plant material amongst the vegetables and flowers I had sown. The sun rising as I am digging my hands into the earth. I awoke to the taste of fresh air and a promise of a great day. I would make my morning coffee, slowly dripping were grounds soaked with boiling hot water, dropping browned water into the pot of early morning libation. I imbibed each sip with patience and cigarette smoke, right up next to the window pane, looking out into the day and endlessly into the possibilities. I had companions, my books, my pets, my job, my friend. My funny friend, always there, close by. Even if I drew no pleasure from the simple life that I lived, my friend enjoyed each moment of freedom and each new experience.

When the early mornings came too quick my friend and I welcomed each ray of light from the uncovered window. I sat and read a few pages of my favorite book and would start out on my way towards work 8 miles away, a beautiful and peaceful bicycle ride. The return home was always welcomed. I would walk through my old and quirky wooden door, pour myself a glass of cold water and go outside and sit in my favorite spot in the garden. I would watch as bees buzzed around my flower garden and the birds hovered overhead. Such simplicity it could make me cry, but every single second of enjoyment seems to fade away into the dark and desperate night that quickly ensued. These moments were not protected from the harsh realities of life, the pains, and fears that substances and alcohol would bring.

Ecstatic, it was a new place, a new life, a new direction. Nevermind that I had just been released from all my legal responsibilities. No more supervised probation, no more daily tests, no more meetings to attend with the threat of jail looming. All my legal fears slowly moved away. I entered into this new apartment with the excitement of life fresh and running through my veins. I was determined to do well at work and make my way through school with purpose in my life. How quickly walls come crumbling down and foundations are shook to their core. I slowly withdrew from life, light, work, family, and friends. I moved further into my cave, this place used to be so bright with smiles and laughter echoing in the halls and rooms. Now each room with curtains drawn, paranoia hanging thick in the air, along with the stench of stale cigarette smoke and the broken walls, broken mirrors, and broken hearts. House plants withered away as did my mind. I fought back with my soul but the grips of the night and the absence of light held tightly to my spirit and stifled my being. I was being drowned in my own self-loathing. A new hope turned into an ever-present option of self termination. I survived, but what part of me survived? What escaped, because I was not unscathed. I barely remain alive in any sense of the word.

I can recall one day in particular. It was a run of the mill weekday. Nothing special or damning about it, but my how it was incredibly damned. I awoke to the annoying and painful sound of the alarm clock. A repetitive sound, not so much a buzzing but more like an emergency alert system over the radio. The sound disturbed my slumber so horribly and I jumped from my bed and hustled to get dressed and ready for work before I was counted late. As I sprung from the comfort of the sheets I found the closest clothes I could. The pain from the night before still lingered in my head, fatigue from lack of sleep and over-indulgence in alcohol. I rushed out to my car and sped to work. Countless times I would do this with no problems whatsoever. This day marked a new point in my life, a point in which I would beg for change. I paused lightly at the stop sign just down the road from my residence. As I sped from the sign blue and white lights that mark the beast flashed in my rear view mirror. Fear struck me, suddenly I was wondering if I was still too drunk to be operating a vehicle. I questioned whether or not I had anything illegal in my possession or in the car. I quickly composed myself enough to handle the traffic stop. It was a quick and simple stop. I was warned by young policeman who seemed idealistic and hopeful for his position of authority. I took heed to his warnings and stopped at every stop sign completely thereafter. Still shaken, inebriated and late for work. The day would only get more difficult. I wonder if I should have called in and stayed home, would that have changed the course of my life? I do not know, but i could only hope that events wouldn't have been so painful................................