Something Old....

A re-post of a work posted on DeviantArt

Sometimes I have the feeling of burning, even though I am so cold my teeth clash together in a cacophany of frozen sound. The epiphany, the amazing thought that I arrive at is that the feeling of burning is wrought by the feeling that I am melting into the fabric of the universe, silently and unamazingly, no bang to resound as I begin my descent.
I see myself being that which I wish not to be but am powerless to stop it. I can not wring out of myself that which I desire. Perhaps the power within myself I have sought so long does not exist, never existed in me. But how does one ever know that. when all around you tell you that only the weak give up reaching for the power that exists within them. When does one know when they have reached the limitations of that power, when continuing to try proves fruitless? How does one discern this from apathy?
This is a question for the ages surely. As mysterious and as unanswerable as the question of God and just as hollow, if not more so. Do all people ponder these things in the dark hours before sleep takes hold of their minds? Perhaps they do and forget it in the morning. Not I. These things do not only exist in my brain but they take hold of it tightly and refuse to let go until my head is screaming with questions it cannot answer.
Do you ever get the feeling someone is watching you? Feel a non-existant breath on your shoulder or see the flicker of human form in that ever decietful corner of your eye? I do. Sometimes. And the shivers come unaided uninhibited. Their icy fingers like a persons breath on a cold day crawl up my spine. They try to take purchase in my very flesh, their icy claws like glass, but under my thin skin my black coal heart is inpervius to them, but for how much longer?
Can one forever hold off whatever is trying to attack them? Wether it be madness or else? Or will I become like the forgotten Kings in castle sieges? Holled up in my castle watching all around me die and fall away, all hope for an end without torture and death lost?
If I find answers to these questions, what then? Will there be more or will I live forever having nothing left to answer? Would I be serene? Scared? Or perhaps so bored as to take my own life for the knowing of all life's answers must surely be not only a lonely place but also a place of no comfort, for thats what lies and theories are meant for.
Perhaps we are only inhibited in finding answers by our own fear. People often do not understand that fear is often what makes one take their own life. Not the usual fear of death and the unknown but fear of life, of living forever the way they are. Fear of the known, and that fear is so much more powerful. It sucks you down like a vortex into a pit where rational thought becomes fantasy and where death seems the only door. The key can be any number of things, but get it wrong and the consequences can be dire. That is a thought which scares some back into rationality.
Others are not so unfortunate.
If we could see the minds of others, really see them in all their fullness and complexity oh how the mentally ill would benefit. To be able to see what a cured life, what a charmed life can feel like. Living that life scares me more than anything else.Will I still feel with the intensity with which I do now? I do not wish to feel the lows so intensly but will my highs be dulled too? I could not live that life. I think I would kill myself from the sheer mundane bore of that.
It is a hard thing when you know that you don't want the cure but you hate the way things are, that constant state of limbo is the worst part of depression. At least when you are suicidal you can see an end to that, almost taste it.
Alas, alack rationality comes back. Or else some other reason to stop ones self and so now I am back at this self inflicted state of limbo. All because of black thoughts. Pain, fear, uncertainty, to much certainty.
The chain, the cycle is again repeated, the bonds that hold it together grow stronger and harder to break. No mere medication can save me now. Some kind of intense treatment is needed. Perhaps if they noticed in grade 5 or 6 or earlier, at the tiny signs that showed up during my pre-pubescence I could have been saved. Perhaps if I'd had the power then to ask for help I could have saved myself but then we get back to my original question. Do I hold that power? Did I ever hold that power? The power with which one saves ones self. The power one needs to survive their own mind. Do I have this? Do I own it? Did I ever?