Bitter

My heart is a no-man’s land now. And I walk around endlessly, lost in the scorching hot sun. I’m completely dehydrated and stumbling forward with burning feet because the soles of my shoes are worn out by this rugged terrain. At times, it seems like I can still recognize certain places, but they are ruins of what they were once supposed to represent. If I had the strength to rebuild paradise, I probably would have done it. But the sadness of destruction makes me hopeless in deciding where and how to begin. How does one begin again? How does one rebuild without the imagination to create?

Dark clouds cover the sky and announce a coming storm. This is it then, up or down for me. A final test to prove if I am really as strong as I let the outside world think I am. But I don’t know if I want to be strong anymore. Not for myself or the outside world. Just let me break down, for I have had enough to endure. Drag me through destruction and mark my body with injuries. Bruise my ribs and back, and scratch my knees and elbows. Let my back break under the weight of it all. Makes it worse. Let the sun blind me and boil my eyes until puddles of brown goo drip out of my sockets. Let everyone see what this does to me. Let me suffer so much pain that in the end it feels like dying and being reborn again.

Let me wake up in the emergency room of a hospital. Scorched and mangled. Surrounded by friends and family who have only just started to worry because I’ve gone too far. Who is only just now asking how I’m doing? How do you think I’m doing? Instead of a beautiful rebirth, I am lying here in a state of decomposition. Half alive and half dead. Please dry your tears, and don’t grieve for what I have become. This was never your process to begin with, and I will not allow you to join halfway. You cannot skip the ceremony but go afterward to eat the cake and drink the wine. Let me suffer and heal alone.

And in the end, I will feel nothing. There is no beautiful rebirth with new insights and fresh beginnings. No new creation is born out of this, no second smarter or prettier version of myself. My wounds heal and turn into scars, but nothing else about my body changes. I remain bitter about the whole ordeal and have not made any new discoveries about myself or the world. I cannot even cry about it because I have come to the point where even my tears no longer offer me comfort. I no longer feel human, but more like a machine. A machine that only wants to deconstruct, demolish, and destroy more. And what if I can’t stop anymore either? I have already gone too far to turn back now. There is no turning back because the ruin in my wake is all that’s left.

And when you finally notice, it is already too late. The earth is burning because of my fury, and the trail of destruction will eventually be traced down to you. There are no more lifeboats or trauma helicopters to save you or me. You were lost, and I was just a drowning man. You could only think about yourself, and in the process, you allowed me to drown right in front of you. And I let it happen because I secretly hoped that you wouldn’t forget me. That I meant more to you than this, and you would eventually rescue me out of the cold water. As my lungs filled with the icy black water, I watched you save everyone else. Everyone but me.

As my cold body slowly drifted to the bottom of the lake, you continued on with your life. Your eternal play continued and you had the starring role. And you seduced everyone else that fell for your acting skills like you had done with me. They all fell for it too, hypnotized like moths to a flame. A dance for which you never dared to give me your hand out of fear of a deeper connection. You kept control, and I was purely a spectator. A temporary filler for a void. A shoulder to lean on, a wallet to steal from. And my frozen body at the bottom of the lake was forced to watch it all play after my passing. My lifeless open eyes fixed on the events of the months that came after me.

Pure hatred and helplessness bittered me to the point that I became empowered to do everything in blind rage. For I have returned to end what you have started. The irony is that you probably think this is something to be proud of. While the whole world is burning and falling apart, you say, ‘Look how strong you have become thanks to me.’ Even in our last moments, you are a selfishly stupid person. You smile at me as a charm offensive, but this no longer has an effect on me. Your smile turns into a facial expression I can hardly unravel. I enjoy how this power play has suddenly changed. Is it fear I can see in your eyes? I can almost smell it. This time around, I will take you into my doom.

For this is my kingdom, and you are an involuntary guest here.