Wednesday, September 3, 2025

Excerpts of the Sleepless Cycle - Massage in a Bottle

 

Frank says that fear is the mind killer.

My mind though is a prison.

And I'm too afraid to break out. Too weak. Paralyzed in place. Inside a graying depressive prison which I built myself and furnished with all the things I hate the most. A fucking toilet. The walls are glass so I can see all I won't let myself have. A bottle that from within I can watch and envy.

I'm surrounded by people. Not inmates. They're all free. I'm the only one incarcerated.

They're my friends. A bright light coming from the highest of attic windows. The only light. It is hope. It breaks the darkness and lets me discern detail. Texture. Grounds me to life again revealing all its fascinating intricacies. They show me reasons why anything of all this crap can matter. For moments I can feel again. Only moments.

The light, it seems to be moving away. Or I'm moving away from it. I really can't tell.

They're here to remind me of freedom and of happiness. Of real enjoyment. I often forget how these feelings feel.

It's been very long since I didn't fake those feelings in front of the others. I did it so they wouldn't pity me. I hate pity. But it's too obvious to everyone since I'm the only one behind the bars. So I look stupid too.

Loneliness is permeating my cell, pouring through my every cell. It's so thick, so constant, so present. So heavy. It's crushing me.

I can't take the weight anymore.

Turned out the others weren't here for me. They were just passing by, happened to notice me and stayed a while for a visit. Now that they found whatever it was they were looking for, they left together for a party I wasn't invited to. It's OK. Soon they'll forget about me and my “situation”, and it'll be better for them. At least someone is having fun.

I'm left alone once more and now it's dark. The weight is getting heavier. I'm getting smaller and unable to reach out anymore. I'm just staring at the bars tightening and the walls turning opaque. Waiting for the end. Alone.

I matter not.

I'm matter not.

I'll return to nothingness.

I'm the cosmic pariah.

It feels lighter already. More relaxed.

Like getting a massage.

In a bottle.

 

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