The Beauty and Grotesque of a Common Life - the living dead



from the suicide attempt survivor's journal:

I used to be a loner since forever. A loner and an introvert. I had nothing against being a somehow functional member of the society and, surprisingly, I was part of various groups, sometimes antagonist groups of people. Sometimes I even had people belonging to different groups get together on social occasions and then enjoyed to discussions arisen from the individuals’ discrepancies brought to the surface especially by alcohol. I could always navigate graciously the meanders of social interaction, but never felt that I belonged. Not to any group, not a specific place, not to anyone.

Since I was in my teens, I had this recurring dream, probably like many others: I used walk in a green field or a forest, with no apparent purpose, simply enjoying the scenery and most of the time I met a ‘her’. We would talk and she would clad me with a feeling of security and she would speak my language in a soothing tone. She would simply understand and complete me, and I would be able to share pieces of the real me, let the veils fall, and grow the intimacy of late night hour chats, heart to heart, soul to soul. In my dreams, ‘she’ actually never spoke and more importantly, I never
saw ‘her’ face. ‘She’ or ‘her’ are simply attributes I woke up with, maybe wishful thinking, but I couldn’t tell for sure more about the entity. 

To this day I wonder whether she was my long gone kin or a part of me, grieving, in denial, wanting to surface and never acknowledged in a conscious way. Be that as it may, I came to the conclusion that I somehow created it, maybe as some sort of defense to cover up all the frustrations and disappointments of life.

The very first moments after waking up were the most beautiful torment I ever experienced. Happy and serene, after a meaningful encounter and despair for lasting for so little time. Since the beginning, I knew I would never meet a human being barely resembling to that dream entity, yet it was my dearest treasure, and all mine. I created it and it will be there for as long as I lived. Bollocks, those dreams are gone and I am left with the reality. Imagine may anger and pain when all I see around me is…are…well, let’s just say that relating to people has started to be more difficult by the day. The gap was widening and I played some role, but that’s already been said by someone with a lot more insight than me.

                                                                    Two thunders
                                                                    High strain
                                                                    Threaten the mankind
                                                                    Among two storms


                                                                    Rotting Christ - Among two storms

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