If you ever wondered what it felt like to have the heart of you torn out, let me elaborate. It is hitting rock bottom, and looking up for a second, and seeing the light at the top of a thousand foot well. Thinking for a hopeful bright moment that things will be alright. And then as you reach to grab a handhold on a slippery stone, dropping into a crushing darkness where breath is a scarce commodity. A mouth filled with damp earth and vomit. The searing of bile in your throat, and the sting of tears which do not cease to flow. The pain at the thought of laughter. A tearing between wanting out and wanting to crawl deeper in. A wish for the cease of existence...
(Whispering to what you think are the heavens, "Where are you, duex en machina? Where are you, Lord? Where is your mercy?")
Hearing the sickening crunch of something vaguely ceramic underfoot. The echo resounding in the hollow of your ribs. The surrender to the throes of sorrow and a second echoing of something you think is your own weeping.
Complete fragmentation.
(Keep me strong, Augustine.)
-L
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