the SEARCH

Long has she been surrounded by the loneliness and gnawing cold of the universe. She has always been silent, strange, and wondering among other worlds like a separate firefly surrounded by too many mysteries and secretly roaming in darkness.

For a while she thought she is free; free from the prison that was consuming every dab of her sanity. They say she’s like an animal, a spirit, a statue, a picture; all together mixed up in a box of confusion and uncertainty.

She longed for a far away very holy but unreal world of its own. She had to escape and flee to the world where things were no doubt precious and beautiful and live life immaculate of complexity and confusion.

Yet there seemed to be a bond between her and misery. A bond she had to trace; reality she has to face.

The world breaking apart around; flowers lacked fragrance, rivers ceased to flow, birds stopped chirping, nature held no attraction. Music became a grating noise, books were nothing but papers, poetry were so much words without meaning. Dreams fell apart.

She has drained every dab of her being that she may be able to rapture her soul from the abyss of tormenting darkness. Yet life is retrieving inward. She longed for euphoric bliss of freedom but she has long since become used to slavery and loneliness that she often secretly succumbed to consuming fits of melancholy and despair. It is not her lot to lay down in a bed of roses and breath fullness and comfort; she prod herself living in a scourge recklessness.

Her misery is joy hence miserable of her joy. Her solace is suffering thus she suffers in her solace. Her heaven is hell. What is the difference between the two anyway? Her death is her life, for everytime she dies she kept on resurrecting and has to be miserable again, has to suffer again and perhaps suffer even more in this aesthetic wretched world. For whatever she does, or wherever she turns to, she could not hide nor deny who she really is.

…she is me.

But then…

…who am I?