I could hear the quiet calmness outside. Life seems to be like this. It goes in some rhythm. Lying here as I do, I cannot possibly tell you what the rhythm, but of the possibility of a rhythm I am certain. At some times, I can hear life outside. At other times, like this, I can just about hear its breathing. Sometimes, I am not sure which I like best. The noise of life or the silence of life. Both terrify me.
I know that I shouldn’t be scared, but I am. I am scared of what is happening to me. It is strange when you have a mind that can observe your body. I remember my life before – I was out there. There was green, there was laughter, my friends, and the joy of movement. I didn’t think I would love to move around so much – back then, all I wanted to do was just eat well and sleep. I don’t eat now, but I sleep. I don’t move. And now, I find that all movement scares me. Once inside, you never want to go outside. I am not sure why we feel like this, but I think it is part of the rhythm I told you about earlier. We are just ceaselessly crawling our way into disintegrated selves. I am sorry, I know I must not be morose, but darkness does that to you. It is not scary, this darkness. It is comforting. I wish I can lie here forever, and I would be happy. It’s moving from darkness to THAT. That light I knew before, which is terrifying.
Yes. I am scared. I am so scared that fear is not an emotion I can even feel anymore. This strange thing now inside my mouth – it moves. I am not hungry, and I don’t know why – I cannot remember the last time I ate. Inside here, space is a little cramped. I cannot stretch as freely as I used to, but each time I twitch a little, I can hear a gentle rustling. My back feels heavier, yet lighter. Is that possible? There is something at the top of my head that is new. I cannot seem to understand it, just as I cannot understand anything that is happening to me here. I wish I knew. But I fear that is how Life is. We move around not knowing why something happens. We are just supposed to be thankful that something happens. I am not. I understand change happens, but I am not thankful for it. Sometimes all you want in life is some stability, you know. I thought that being here would be so, but although I feel safer than I ever felt before, I am terrified. Yes. I repeat myself. I want to shout out. Ask someone. Anyone. But I was told not to come out till I was ready. How do you know? Just how do you know you are ever ready? I am not ready now. I was never ready to come here. I am not ready to leave. There! What was that? That hurt. If I had tears, I would shed them. Now all I can do is just weep my anguish.
Ah! Another one! Did I tear something? I have lost all my legs, you know. Now, I just have these two at the back. Two! What can you do with just two legs? How will I ever move? But move I must. Is this being ready? No. I think this is called being scared. I am caught between lying and moving. Suddenly, I cannot think logically as I used to. All I know is that it is now or never. I must leave. This beloved place of my eternal rest. Or so I thought it was. Now I feel it wasn’t so. It was just Life playing another cruel trick on my self. I don’t even know what my self is anymore. I can feel another rip. A tear. I want to cry out with the pain. But I am starting to love the pain. Someone had told me before, when I was not here in this darkness, that all pain is good. I had laughed. I didn’t think how pain could be good. I remember when I lost one of my legs, and it hurt so bad. That wasn’t good. I still think pain isn’t good. There is nothing in Life that ought to have pain. Life should really be a beautiful wave of unending beauty. Pain. I don’t understand. This thing inside my mouth moves. And then, I find myself stretching. I can’t stop myself. I don’t want to. But I can’t understand myself. I wish to stay here. I wish to move. I don’t know. Help. Please. Something tears at the back. Those two legs behind me have torn my den! I built it with love, you idiot! I want to scream. But I don’t know how I can scream at this my other self, which seems not to listen to me. Pieces of my home shred down. I can hear them falling. But they don’t make a sound. I can hear them because they are pieces of my soul. And you always hear your soul when it fails you. I can see this body that is not mine attack more of my soul. More pieces fall. I can not feel pain anymore. I feel the first glimpse of Life. With strength I didn’t know I had, I push out. I gasp as the first draft of air hits me. Miraculously I can see. There is Light! Faint, but it is reassuring. Those two small legs of mine push me out. I am out. I am out. I sway. And I find that instead of all the legs I had, I have something else attached to my body. They move. Almost without me telling them to. They flap more. The air around me scuffles in anger. My head reels. The light. The air. The energy in flapping. Yet, I look back, and see the last of my poor little nest, shredded, hanging there almost waiting for me to come back. I smile. I don’t know if I want to go back. But I like hanging in the air like this. I cannot describe how it feels…but if there was a moment in my life I could have said was perfect, it was this. This utterly incandescent feeling of being able to just fly. Fly! That’s it, I am flying!! I am scared. Terribly scared. I swirl around in captive circles, but I laugh in happiness. I am giddy with glee. I am flying. I am.
Crack.Snap. It was over. The bird clasped the fluttering moth in its wings. Crunch. The flutter died. The bird moved away, unperturbed. It had just had its first meal of the day. A bit raw for its taste, but well, you know, you can’t complain much in Life.
One Reply to “sTrUgGlE”
Beautiful story, Soul! I am still not able to decide which is my favourite line – they are all so beautiful! This part of the first paragraph is so beautiful and sets the tone for the rest of the story – “Sometimes, I am not sure which I like best. The noise of life or the silence of life. Both terrify me.” I thought it was a butterfly who would make a grand entrance in the end – my guess was so close 🙂 The ending of the story is sad – life is so terrible and beautiful. I saw a moth the other day; it looked like one more moth with the same grey wings and was nothing remarkable – till it opened its wings and started to fly. The transformation was magical and stunning – it was like a riot of beautiful colours had suddenly come into being! Your story reminded me of that 🙂