Click the pic for the original challenge. Written for Ermilia’s Picture It & Write.
I can tell when they’re coming, but it does me no good. Once I sense them, it’s too late. Impetuous, greedy, they consume me, digest me. I feel their bile in my veins.
Self is lost, all sense of it. Fragile, alone, I fear them and the enzymes of my fear dissolve me. They know. Hungerless, they prey upon me, agitated by my weakness. They possess me. They waste me. In demonic rage, they use me to destroy what I love most.
Trapped in their membrane with the bitter albumen of my despair, I am invisible. I am blue. I am wretched like they are. I have become what I fear most. I have become one of them.
I scratch and claw to find my freedom. In my futile attempt, I become their tool, the implement of their reckless rampage. Anger, hatred, violence, they march out of me in disorganized regiment, burning in effigy my very soul, leaving its scarred and hollow cadaver on public display, pecked by the carrion fowl of remorse.
When they’ve left me, I cry.
I tell myself I’ve emerged from the suffocation in their cocoon more beautiful than I was before. I don’t feel beautiful. I don’t feel free. All around me lie the shattered remnants of things I once held dear. I believe I’m no better than they are.
© 2013 Anne Schilde
That is tragic! Even the rebirth is filled with pain. Very well written.
Thanks, Joe. It’s a tragedy I’m too familiar with.
I’m very sorry to hear that. I only wish the best for you.
I’m okay. I promise.
You did one of those Sweedish massages where you experience a rebirth?
Now I want one!!
I can’t remember what they’re called or if someone was being sarcastic, but I’m told there’s some spa treatment where you “rexperience your own birth”
Gave me chills!
Yay for chills!
Wow! Excellent. Particularly …pecked by the carrion fowl of remorse. So visual and visceral.
Thanks for sharing.
Thanks, Diane. For some reason, when I gave my soul a dead body, the vultures immediately showed up. It’s like they can sense death even when it’s verbal.
This one is different than your usual stories, and you still pull it off. Amazing.
This is an interesting comment, Adam. I felt trapped by the picture and it reminded me of the way I feel trapped by my moods sometimes. It seemed very usual to me, but I can see it’s not.
For some strange reason, this reminds me a lot of Kahlil Gibran’s poem, “Pain.”
Just read it. I can see that sort of. I really wanted to make “I have become one of them” a whole paragraph about being friends with our moods, but it wasn’t working. Next time I guess. I loved Gibran’s “Much of your pain is self-chosen” standing alone as the only single line.
this all seems very painful.. and the feeling of suffocation and confinement very well-described. and how it all still lingers.. great job.
Thanks, kz. I wish people who didn’t suffer mood swings had an easier time just understanding.
i get it. i was very young when my mom broke down and every day’s a struggle.
Hard for everyone involved isn’t it? Stay strong, hon!
This is brilliant! Great work.
Thanks Deana! Psychotic moods from spray-painted latex… hmm… sometimes I think I just see psychotic moods in everything.
very true!
Excellent!
Written just for a sad dog, eh?
I think so…. woo woo!
Anne, you have the knack of capturing the picture really well with your words. Very powerful piece and imagery you’ve created. The last few lines speak volume, especially this one “All around me lie the shattered remnants of things I once held dear.” So many levels are hidden in this one line. Or maybe just my interpretation of that line. It’s stuck with me.
I’m glad you think so, muZer! We all get to interpret things differently so there would be no right or wrong way. When we lash out during an emotional breakdown, we hurt the people we love, sometimes losing friends, lovers, spouses, not to mention physically breaking things we care about, but always doing damage that can never be undone. The last line is intentionally a double entendre. Thanks for the great comment!
I did something like this many years ago… quite revealing, and terrifying at the same time… I had so much ‘rage’ inside me… It was so good to get it out…! Mind you, Anne, it took some years to get it ‘all’ out…!
As for the piece; your writing is powerful, Anne. Powerful and revealing..!
Wow, lots of great comments on this one! What a tribute to the kind of person you are, that you are so supportive and kind and fun now! How blessed are we that you faced the challenge!
Yes, lots of great comments you have teased….!
I have just been to this blog:
http://mentalnotes1.wordpress.com/2013/01/21/feature-gaudenzia-house-philosaphy/
I think it speaks my truth quite well….!
Hehe! No one can say I don’t suffer others to share my secrets!
Seems a very healthy thing to do….!
xoxoxo
You can feel the pain of the narrator here..sad and powerful..
It might sound weird, but what I wish I could capture is the forgiveness of the narrator’s victims.
This is so powerful. Gives me shivers! Brilliant work, Anne.
Thanks, MD! Psychotic moods can be very powerful and very destructive.
Wow, Anne, this is quite something. And that picture is amazing.
I can feel all of this. Well described.
Credit Eliabeth with finding the crazy picture!
I feel so cold suddenly !
Well written ..
Thanks! Here’s a quick shoulder-rub to warm you back up.
This piece is so intense and now my brain has gone all solemn. How do you always do this so beautifully? Magic is evidently involved somewhere… no human being could be this amazing, I swear!
Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain! ~Oz
If I had to give a serious answer, I’d turn the question back around on you. How do you always do it so beautifully?