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Sometimes I feel numb. I just cannot feel the world around, with all its ugliness and sorrow. I cannot feel the air I am breathing, it suffocates me instead of granting me life. It paralyzes my thoughts and smashes my soul. It pulls me down under earth closing its firm rigid gates on my heart and mind. Let go is the cry I yearn to utter, but lips refuse to open and tongue deny its existence, hiding from my blaming. Darkness is all that I am left with. All candles are melted down in a world of remorse and despair. Devils, demons, monsters, name what you wish from hell, and you will find it in this damned world. Alone I wander, not feeling whether I am floating, crawling, or walking, I am just moving.
From door to door I flee. Aimless, not finding what I seek, not knowing what I desire. Without a future and with erased past I face a vague fading present. Doubting in God, in earth, in hell, or heaven, doubting in my very ill existence. Now I just lose all of my senses, words are not welcomed in my virgin ears, nor on my repentant tongue. Scents and odors are poison to my nose, and my eyes hide themselves in a shell shut out of vision and dive in the depth of my soul, trying to reach the very essence and core of wildness inside me.
Striving to reach, struggling to take over from the sneaking numbness, my eyes find the untamed shrew in me. The eyes grab a strong hold of my soul, calming, comforting, and drying its tears. Trying to stop the bleeding of fresh wounds from the malice sword of wildness, but in vain the effort goes. Persisting the eye, fighting her immortal battle, determined to kill the beast aroused. The wounds increase and the soul hangs by a thin thread finding her salvation in death. Noises are getting lower for the battle is about to end. No more winners; each one is hurt. Time heals every wound, but is that a wound? It is something bigger and much deeper than a wound. I do not know it. I have never seen it, but it is not a wound.
The eyes are exhausted and wildness hides away in shadow. Here comes the end. The battle is over now and the eye seems to be the one that remains. It is also hurt, but it does hide, standing still instead. Slowly it regains strength, and starts to be aware of the victory it achieved. Realizing that it took the pain away from the soul, but temporary the cure will be, for wildness is merely hiding. And back she will be coming, if not today then another. The eye opens the doors once more, and bit by bit life is stepping into the soul. Frightened and shaking but further ahead it is moving. Senses are recovering and even more sharpened than before, welcoming life after rejecting it. Reborn I become, not a care in the world. Any one can look into my victorious eye like an open door to see through me. It a simple matter of time and as it heals, once more it will revive the pain.
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