There is a strange eerie feeling that can't really be replicated through forced interactions as this familiar feeling of a cold metal doorknob on the wet palm of one's hands; It's both exhilarating and haunting. The long road back home has been filled with newfound emotions he once thought long lost to himself.
As evening turned midnight, the distant sounds of both machine and man became muffled as Ash twisted the knob revealing a memory that was locked away from ages past. Piece by piece, the puzzle came together being complete, for deep within this convoluted and complex conundrum in the crucible known as he, a day like this was the sugar and spice which made up the finishing touches of any stew within life's boiling cauldron.
The knob offered little to no resistance, it opened under the key and creaked slightly as it opened to reveal the home in which he considered his sanctuary. Taking by far one of the longest breaths of his life, the emotions came crashing like a train hitting another train or a car slamming against a concrete wall. He then exhaled with such intensity that the neighborhood stray cat hissed at him from the gate before running away and making the dogs of the neighborhood bark loudly; causing more relaxing chaos in the silent countryside.
It was a positive feeling, a genuine smile after such a long and tiring ride finally formed—the first one in weeks—as his eyes slowly took in the surroundings of his old childhood home. Flashes of bygone eras and hidden memories resurfaced once more to remind him of times when blissful ignorance served as the fuel to his finite happiness.
He took one small step—a larger step for his psyche—within his home and began to notice how well-maintained everything is. Everything felt as if untouched by time itself. The wooden parquet flooring was even varnished and looked as if it was swept weekly, the table in the dining room had not even a single speck of dust on it as the chairs themselves looked like they were recently repaired after suffering years of wear and tear. Shock and glee interwoven with childlike intrigue and wonder bubbled within him as he closed the door behind his back and decided to settle in for the night.
Walking through the interior felt agonizing, as photo frames of his family hanging alongside his diplomas from three different levels of education alongside their awards reminded him of the blood, sweat, and tears that he had poured onto the earth in achieving so much and gaining so little. He would stop by and stare at one of them, a particularly catching piece of old paper framed with a ribbon and a small medal hanging off its frame. His fingers grazed over the glass to remove a small trail of dust to reveal a small picture within a frame of a young him with a smile wider than his face. The earliest achievement that he could be proud of; oh how the years have gone on by.
As he chuckled to himself, he turned to see that the door to his personal bedroom was open. A neatly made bed lay within one side of the room which looked far cleaner than the one he remembered as he left it all those years back.
It was a confirmation. A reward that he had done it.
He was finally home.
The clock ticks swiftly.
With each passing second,
Each passing minute,
Each passing hour,
The past really is fast.
Especially if it catches up.
With a quick blink of one's eyes, time will inevitably march forward with complete and utter disregard with your emotions. As the constant flow of the sands of the hourglass never waits even if you wallow in the depths of your own despair and swallow your own sorrows. It is never-ending, unchanging and unstoppable; and so today I have learned a harsh and painful lesson by the uncaring, cruel, and unjust mistress known as reality which I currently am a slave to. It is the cold and unfiltered truth that I could never come to terms with, lest it sows the very seeds of my own unbecoming—it'll serve as the catalyst in which my self-destructive nature would breed.
However,
I am stuck in the past.
And I cannot move on.
There is a saying that goes,
"History repeats itself."
It's a popular maxim. Many historians rarely agree with the saying, those who do believe in it can only prove that instances where two events happened due to a myriad of similar circumstances and convenient happenstance are nothing more than a massive coincidence.
When Prometheus stole the first flame to give to the fledgling children of the gods, he did it out of his unbridled love for the creations of Olympus; yet Zeus decided to punish him for all eternity in showing his love.
When Hades gave Persephone those pomegranate seeds, he did so with hesitation; knowing full well that without the love of his life he'd remain lonely and alone in ruling an unruly kingdom with no company. But he also knew that a love that's forced akin to his brother, is no real love at all. He may have taken her from the grasp of the sun, but it was in Hades that he nurtured her and cared for her before realizing the folly of his ways.
Not only that, but from the impacts of the Graeco-Roman civilization has made me want to emulate days of a bygone epoch, from the Chinese and their quest for cultivation and immortality up to the disputes of Feudal European Society and their eventual advancements in scientific fields and social advancements which both advanced and set back peoples from different parts of the world.
It may be Eurocentric, but memories from memoirs of those that lived in ages past along with their different perspectives about the way of living and the meaning of one's life; Everything and anything that has ever occurred in the history of man, I revel in it.
Yet no matter how many lives I have lived through the immersion of the lives of others, I'm still being held back by the past.
I've stared at my bed for a solid minute now.
The memory of me sleeping in this bed with a huge smile on my face. It's unbelievably nostalgic, even for me. The intense urge to drop everything that's attached to my body and lie down, close my eyes and drift into a state of both living and dead; seeing visions through the lenses of my very own eyes from another fabric of reality and never open my eyes ever again is immense for me. But I don't want to die stinky.
Covered in sweat and grime, mixed with the scent of rain, smoke, dust, and whatever underlying things I've interacted with for the duration of the entire trip. It was the most exhausting week of my life, draining me of every strength and will I have left in my fleeting 24 years of existence; however, it also invigorated me to start doing things I never normally do.
With the final arrangements of my bags and stripping down to my underwear, the feeling of relaxation and calmness overwhelms me for a moment before I just completely halt everything that I have been doing. To be alone in a room without any pervasive eyes, where there are no snakes hiding amongst the walls, without people saying the dumbest shit known to man, and the absence of the loud noises of sex within the thin walls of the dormitory.
It feels like I was transported to a whole new world entirely; So, with a deep breath, I screamed as loudly as I possibly could. Like a newly released prisoner taking their first steps out of the penitentiary gates; I felt as if I was a new man and truth to be told, it feels great to finally be the real me.
Even if I'm nothing more than a shell of my former self. Wasting away in this husk of a body that I so desperately hate despite not doing anything to become a better version of myself. All this self-loathing would never get me anywhere yet the exhaustion and fatigue that overcomes my body in doing the most basic of tasks already pushes me to my limits. Despite the safety and recluse of my home, I'll always be forever haunted by a specter of a person that does no longer exist.
Every single night, in the confines of my dreams, my spirit still exists as it searches for something that had already faded long ago; An emotion so raw, it cannot be spoken. No words can describe the euphoric taste as I devoured every single word that she spoke out of her venomous mouth as she caressed my cheeks and gave me kisses reminiscent of bittersweet almonds. Like a cancer it spread and grew and entrenched itself under the guise of an intoxicating ambrosia, the hypnotic lullaby that sent me spiraling out of control grew with each passing day, her siren song had turned me closer to being insane.
By Poseidon's domain, I remembered drowning at the depths of the dark blue sea as I wallowed in my despair; driven by guilt, fear, sorrow, and regret, I swallowed my pride only to puke such putrid feelings of self-loathing and destruction.
Oh Dionysus, Make me forget my sorrows and erase the eccentric memories, silence her sweetest songs and her haunting melodies. Drown me in the strongest wines, they're my only remedies. Turn me mad, crazy, insane, irrational, silly and for the love of god take away all my jealousies. This madness and insanity, it's slowly killing me; Please, I beg of you, stop this sad man's parade, come and take me to my early grave, to go and see the ends of Hades.
All those sleepless nights, the thoughts shared with the moon, the songs sung to the stars, my worries about you. I forever fear my fantastic fanaticism spun by this fragment of a fallacious memory towards the fabricated fiction that is you. It pains me immensely to know that I would never be next to you. That everything I've conjured up in my head was nothing more than an infallible fallacy held barely together by a fading hope and a pinch of cold and hard truth.
Maybe I'm truly a sick man, with an intricate illness that allows me to see with a dark, beautiful, and twisted fantasy for such a bleak and chaotic reality. Maybe you're the medicine which would finally rid me of this affliction called isolation.
But, oh how Sol finally wakes, it seems our time is over my dear. Again, we'll play this game of hide and seek; To answer questions no one dared to ask, to solve mysteries that are meant to be left unsolved. It's time for me to make my exit in this ridiculous show, for a new dawn comes and with it, new sorrows. For as long as I live in the present, I shall definitely die tomorrow. As I close my eyes and go to sleep, death will toy with me once more and I'll ward him off with a reminder that I do not fear death. What I simply fear are the sorrows and regret that I will endure in the afterlife if one should exist. Or I'll simply fall into this endless dream that I will never wake up from. To be with you in the depths of my consciousness as my soul suffers the toll of my insanity.
To drift in this endless void without feeling your loving embrace, your warm laugh, your sweetest smiles. No matter, know that even on my deathbed I'll smile, for I have witnessed you this one final time.
I guess this truly is a goodbye.