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Rated: E · Essay · Inspirational · #1311727
Something between a reflection of the present and the prophecy of getting lost.
Crisis

Have you ever felt that a lot of zombies are crawling toward you begging help and involving you in that horrific moisture of coagulated blood, skin, and smelling flesh while with their tomb-coming voices asking sphinx’s enigmas? I have! There are moments when the sore parts of you take this kind of decomposed life and haunt you announcing things don’t go that well: you have been hiding too many skeletons in your cupboard for too long time. And you wish to run away from yourself, wish to pretend things are right this way, pretend matters have just a phase of transition, that it’s just a wave created by an unexpected wind but you are lying!!! A whole crisis is swallowing you and there are only to alternatives: ignoring it and living in its huge bat-habitat belly, in the dark cave of your self-condemning and tempting blindness or fighting to death with it (which in fact is your laziness) which means destructing yourself in the case you wouldn’t reach the light in the end of the tunnel.
There are times when feeling helpless is natural. These bitter feelings can prevent you from taking the right cure to be healed. And dazzling lights seen from the steamy glass of the window are not enjoyed anymore…and the pack of every little thing used to be the sheltering coil of your personality vanishes. You are loosing yourself, because you are giving up. The lost faith is like a summer rain, washing away the particles which made up the home of your magic fairy, the one took care since your childhood. Life becomes death, you become a zombie, even worse that the ones who did persecute you. A string-puppet zombie of a hypocrite life, with the string of some stupid, man created happiness sending annoying beats to the heart. Only at some strange deja – vous some slight memory of what truly tastes life you can understand the horror surrounds you. But don’t bother…soon they will fade away till being nothing.
There are times when you love yourself too much to let it go, you love your life too much to let go, you love the way things discovered by you are to let go. The battle is an Armageddon-type: the end is heaven or eternal hell. The paradise is never a long lasting one, soon another crisis will take place, and other haunting dilemmas will drive you into madness till you try to solve them. But I can’t tell you more details…half of me is a zombie now, and the other half is terrified by the first one. I just know that when I heal I’ll be stronger; with a greatest potential-if I heal. But at least, I prefer destructing myself rather than living in a world whom I don’t belong. I’m not a hypocrite!
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