Colors

Sometimes, during certain moments, I feel so strong. At other times, I'm instantly overcome by such a deep sadness...Something I don't understand but that lives deep within me. It sits in my throat and washes down my cheeks. It makes my heart pound and my soul ache, reaching for something I will never know. Just as soon as it rushes into my mind, it leaves and I'm emptier than before.

The sadness is something I crave and dread. It makes me feel alive and emotive, yearning for the depth of that dark ocean, the break of that unforgiving wave. It is the most beautiful thing about my life, and also the reason I'm clawing at myself from the inside. I live in these quick moments of unrelenting pain until the numbness returns. I feel like I'm looking at a photograph of myself, taken from far away.

My little secret: my seducing depravity. The loss of myself that I forget exists in the fleeting instant it falls away.

My life could be painted in two colors. The first: pale gray of numbness. The control and habit and forward motion of my everyday, with little blips of blue during moments of possible attainability. 'Maybe I can feel happy today...' The other color is a rich and vibrant oxblood. Beautiful in fleeting moments and deadly if I stay too long. But I can never stay too long. I plummet unexpectedly into these periods of such a hungry sadness. The hopeless recognition of something I try to deny that's been eating away at me all along. Acknowledging my hollow parts and feeling the release of hot tears on my skin, the choking anger building in my throat. My heaving stomach fluttering with fears of forever. My brain betrays, making me happy to just be feeling anything at all. How beautifully tragic that I have to find my desperate happiness in the deepest red of pulsing heart. Just as soon as I recognize this ache, it fizzes away, bubbling back to the steady gray of forgetfulness.