From the inside of a tunnel

I'm in a dark place.

I feel as helpless and as clueless as my child self

I always could see the hidden corners of me. Everything I did wrong was for a reason that I knew. Either to break down a God, feed a sense of deprivation, get back at someone or cradle one of my many other insanities.

But this time, I cannot see a thing. This ignorance and lack of solid ground is driving me to my ends.

And the images I see do not count, for they themselves, are more painful than the very state of blindness.

Foggy detailed snapshots of my childhood, incidents I thought I've forgotten.. the nostalgia itself is distasteful and disrespectful of my space

Unjustified persistent worries, over things as trivial as air

And nightlong nightmares of mutated darkened scenarios of my worst fears

I wonder how God ever approved of the existence of nightmares, let alone being stuck in them, and having them repeat themselves relentlessly.

There is no eloquent manner of expressing a state of mere fear of the dark.

The effect of this condition on me isn't an illusion, as I'm amused to call everything I feel

It has done enough to prove it's not, and miraculously leaked its way out of the numbness on my chest.

It actually managed to put the ducts behind my eyes to work before the rustiness in them blocked them permanently; one thing that counts for the peculiar state of being.

A year has gone by since we've been together. Not once throughout it has he failed to nurse me in my ordeals, all trivial and substantial. It earned him my trust and sincere emotion.

For the first time, I cannot but remain tongue tied to how he is towards this. He unmistakably preferred his peace of mind and drug of choice over supporting me. Bearing in mind he's the only one who knows how dark it is in here.

I'm not suicidal, and I'm not a pessimist. But in this state of suffocation, I truly wish I reach my final breath. It's not alright being in a state of constant suffocation.

At least not for me.