Relinquishment

It is hard to close your eyes and feign ignorance to the rest of the world alone; lying in bed. I have trouble sleeping these days. It’s the thought of emancipating yourself from everything else and taking cover, slipping into unknown vulnerability. Sleeping alone makes it more of a tedious task. It was the most lonely hours, languid pressures empowering the material existence and fantasy warping through the unconscious mind. I needed companionship, which I crave veraciously always. Even for my sleeping pleasure. However in putting it, I didn’t find sleeping a pleasure.

At one strike of the second hand of the persistent clock, my eyes flew open searching for the room of etching familiarity which was the comfort zone of the real world. But I was searching for her. In harmless parity, I had solemnly invited her mesmerizing presence into my life not so long ago. Her long black hair with traces of copper blonde from her last dye at the end brought about a tenacious imagination in my head. I had tried to replay in my own direction and scripting about her days when her hair was all colored before she met me. Had she been the ever busy social butterfly nesting at every plausible pollen looking for the right temptation until she met me?

I had vividly made up my own fiction about her. She must have been waiting for my ominous arrival in her life for a long, long time. She had for-seen my becoming but she had quaintly waited because of her gentle ethereal nature. Moments of passion was easily lapped up maybe because she knew she was born only for the purpose of completing my life; my dreams and igniting my living fire.

A piece of art she was, only for and to my eyes. Her sunken pallid cheeks resting on a symmetrical face structure with deep thought provoking eyes became an object of lusting desire within me. The dry lips, of slight cracks and uneven features begged to be rested upon and relished with my very own. Her imperfections became my obsession. My continuous dismantled mind brimming with inappropriate thoughts constantly revolve around her physical matter. It was almost like my intangible weapon against her low-willed weak self. I own this being. She was the alleviation for all my insecurities, my qualms, my discomfort, my inability to compassionate and my object of dominance ferocity.

But I couldn’t see here anywhere now. She wasn’t here. I felt my host of soul tremble a little of fear. My eyes rapidly looked around but the sight of my needed potent could not be found. Sweat began to trickle down my fingers. I had just hit realization that I was mighty alone; with no companionship.

There used to be a warm regard on the feisty bed that we fell asleep together each dusk. The disturbingly comforting febrile sensation that lingers from her creases on the blanket fills in the gaps of forlorn insecurity that infiltrate my heart every time I awake from a long maddening grip of dark quiescent obscurity. She was always there to welcome me to another day. A bright new day to pass by together with her divine presence. Her absence at this moment is somewhat an unknown territory that grips me with an intimidating clout. There was no one to protect me.

The room felt cold; void of even a slight ember of pity. I felt fear creep through me, reaching for my face, caressing it slowly; mocking me at the mercy of its power. It gradually reached my neck, moving slowly down to my breasts and seeped right into the pulsing vibe of me. Right in my heart, it journeyed my whole soul, using my blood as its carnal passage way.

I screamed. The first thing my hand gripped was the ticking clock which metrical rhythm was driving my head to explosion. The crashing sound was analogous to an amateur drummer banging snares discordantly. I threw the damn thing across the room. I was lost. I needed to get it out of my blood; out of my system; out of me. I tossed and turned grasping into darkness while wailing her name. I needed security but it would be the last thing I can ever find in such a disproportionate manner. I just wanted it out, out of my bloody soul and head. I sat up and ran to my closet. Rummaging through the entire wooden parcel had me looking for a knife. Or a blade. Oh, a blade will do. My weapon of freedom now. I needed it to help me resist the evil fear in me; to help sustain my authority over my own mind.

I felt a prick on my finger. I stopped my hand from blindly pursuing what I want cause I knew it had found me instead. I slowly traced my senses according to its sharp edges. Beautiful edges, very enticing. I knew it was my savior, my will of indemnities. I grabbed the knife and blissfully slashed my wrist. And my arms. And my cheeks. And my chest. Yes, let the blood flow out of me together with the fear which has manipulated my essence. Once the evil is out, I’ll be released from this painful and scary capture. Free from its sinister grip.

And then, maybe not.

Perhaps the feeling of blood rushing through my veins, trickling down on the damaged and scarred skin on my wrist never was the gush of adrenaline I had expected and wanted. My mind crept slowly from one bloody point to another, deterrent of a single track. I sat on the black velvet love couch that she bought. It smelled of her, her scent, her vicious moans, and her honey of love which stained the couch unintentionally. I felt empty, as empty as a deserted well during the drought, just like how my body will run dry of my life in any moment.

There are two retrospective to love; a mellifluous continuing river of passion till the very day where both stop breathing or the discordant pitch that sparks off when two loving souls lash out in immense tension which ends in tragic. I always thought my azure sky has finally been hued by the amber shades when I met her, weaving my love to the extreme right of the spectrum. But right now, all I can feel is pain. The love that she served to my desirous heart was undeniably delectable only to have turned into an unpleasant cloying matter. It was the pain, the pain that was turning me crazy. I couldn’t see the basis of my distress, was it the torrid sensation burning on my wrist, or the pangs of distorted outburst in my heart?

I shifted my strength to my shoulder and sprawled myself on the couch. I suspect I had just used up the infinitesimal left of energy I have. I didn’t know how important blood was; in fact I didn’t know how important anything was. If I had been a little more apprehensive, the heavy ochre wooden door five feet away from me wouldn’t have been slammed shut. We had chosen the door together to signify the solidness of our love that protects our home. But she slammed the door shut on me; it was almost like a form of poignant contrary. A tool of love has now the turn the table against me.

My overwhelming love for her was like a dichotomy of traditional matrimonial framework. She belonged to me and that was all it matters. The very subsistence of her depended on my psychological generosity to continue amorously hold over her.

The pain. The malevolent pain that eats up every nerve of my body deliberately now reminds me of the similar menacing torture that I had felt when I was eight years old. It was the same anguish that had inflicted my psyche when my kitten ran away.

I had found the pygmy newborn kitten lying in my verdant garden; the malodorous scent of its mother’s womb could still be freshly smelled penetrating my nasal. I picked up the kitten; absolutely overjoyed by the presence of another being in my gloomy portrayal of a small girl; void of parents’ love and almost non-existent warmth from my surrounding. I had saved the kitten with hypnotic empathy in my mind; which soon turned out to be murky descent on my disturbed state. The poor naive kitten must have thought the world of me for saving its worthless miserable life until my menacing dominant mentality took over.

I played little mind games with the kitten, chasing after it, caging it with an upturned pail only to release it whenever I wanted to; and then recapturing it again only to knock the sides of the pail to oppressively subdue it.

I had at times forced the kitten incessantly to drink gregarious amount of milk until it refused my feeding; in which I would purportedly hold it by the neck and shoved the milk bottle into its dwarfish mouth.

It was as though the kitten became my object of release of all bitterness and blighted perspectives residing in my brain. But often, I would sit down and hold the dear creature in my lap reminiscing how it had appeared and became my only acolyte; my only contact of living menace.

And then one day, it left me. I woke up and never saw it again, just like how she had left me. They were just my temporary saviors who had vigilantly assisted to hone me into a tranquil emotional state. But they left; was it because of my seemingly ululating like actions and presence? Was I wrong?

The kitten was only a pale comparison of anything I was capable of. I had bitterly raised my hand and strike her when I was blinded by my own irrepressible fury. At times of immense frustration, I threw things at her, sometimes, I even threw her across our space. The broken clock that lies mutely on the floor right now was a painful prompt of my abandoned mind, the edges of it had bloodstains conceived when I swerved it right at her head. But it didn’t mean I love her any less, in fact, I had shown my suppressive violence only because I loved her too much. This was how I made her listen and obey me regardless. To remind her only that she is my possession to keep.

Perhaps I have got it all wrong. Why else would the roles have been reversed right now? I needed her more that I thought she had. Pledging magnitude and pride, epiphany dawned on my blizzard clouded mind. That I had never owned this woman or the kitten. It was they who had perceived control over my life. That the perfect architecture of my vision of us was never true. She came into my life loving me, but it also made her see past the façade of my inspired self; behind the mask revealing a down trodden, lonely, obnoxious and inscrutable citadel of burden brimming in my head. My overt supremacy had me an ingrate of absolute imaginary moral rhythm; only perhaps subsiding as a mere little hellion.

My existence now is almost as useless and worthless like a fleck of skin shed on a summer day. I was once again alone marked by my syncopated breathing that was getting more and more feeble by seconds.

The flowing elixir of life away from my material body was so enigmatic that I could feel each of my veins throbbing in a sadistic pleasure against my bloody core.

I felt fear completely emptied of me. I had won the battle. Nothing held power over my mental framework anymore except for my very self. But this is also how it feels to leave the present world; to finally venture into higher spirituality. I closed my eyes. Perhaps now I will embed myself in the pleasures of sleeping. Alone.