Labyrinthe

You lay there paralysed on that mattress, lifelessly staring at some trivial spot on the wall or through the window, eyes open with vacant gaze yet shut down to all emotions, your body in the present moment but your soul disengaged, wandering aimlessly in the promenades of past, going through all the worst times, over and over and over, like a broken record.

Your brain, destined to be your masterpiece, now lays as a worthless glob in the vault of your head, functioning only to further add agony, thinking and overthinking about ‘whys’ and ‘whatifs’ and whatnots.

Plagued by immaterial thoughts and unanswerable¬†questions, you are sucked into the vortex of misery, you make a labyrinthe out of your own thoughts, you complicate your own life and then you wonder why you can’t get out.

And your heart, too tired of all this, grows weaker and weaker. As you subject yourself to more pain, its strings take the impact of it all. And slowly and slowly, when it gets too much to handle, they break. They break one by one, until there’s nothing left. And your heart is too fragile to pump blood for your own body.

Is that what you’d do to yourself?

And then there’s nothing, your mind stops the crazy loop of thinking and overthinking and you, you don’t want to feel anymore, you are revulsed by the idea of being passionate or too intense.

And that is how you end up arriving to a vast stretch of numbness.

 

 

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