Sins of our Souls

A Story by Stella Stone

Chapter 2 Reality

I always thought that I wasn't meant for this world. I never could handle it or accept it as it is for that matter. Even the most exciting occurrence was so ordinary. And even the most innocent person could be corrupted. But it seemed like human kind believed their good will with blindness. They had a blind fate. I never figured out how they could call themselves kind, good, together... I learned that cruelest actions come from human beings. We were suffering 'cause of our instincts more than any animal. So it was just too shameful for me. Being human. Being a slave to your DNA. Being that weak. Because I did see humanity as weakness. And that's why I denied being one of them in my head. Then when I got exposed to human emotions I started to go crazy little by little. It was the time I lost it. It was the beginning of my hatred on reality. The emotions came flooding in and dragged me down, drowned me. The walls were down. They lead to pain, not love and caring. Then one day they were all gone. I couldn't feel joy, love or even pain. I was just in this mindless space. Even though I could not feel the pain, I knew it would be the worst thing I'd have to go through when this numbness faded. But for just once it was alright. At least it felt alright at the time. It was fake obviously. I knew after months of mental suffering you cannot be okay all of a sudden. But I'll tell you what I was like:

I just accepted it. The reality. This reality. I accepted that this was it. We were like this. And there was nothing more. Our ordinary lives were as extraordinary as we make. Some things were limited, some people were evil, ignorance was always eating our minds, we were restricted by religion, racism, gender specifications. I accepted that I could know this but still can't change it. Because nobody ever changed.

It's been like this for a while. I wasn't happy or sad. I was just there, living, breathing or so it seemed. And now I think that was the worst thing that could happen to me. But it was a necessary change for that time in my life. I had to turn it all off. All the things related with my personality. Because it opened my mind. Even when I thought everything was possible, I was restricted by the society I lived in, the cultural virtues and vs. I never really saw how evil the rules we play by were. Power, sex, religion, politics... They were all so twisted. The good and bad tangled. You couldn't even tell what was wrong and what was right. You could easily believe the wrong things without realizing, judge the humane things there was nothing wrong about. Some people couldn't see that the thing they believed in could be more perverse than the things they dissed so easily because it was perverse and not right. How can you make people see it from a different angle? I think, you can't. Because the chaos is inevitable. And chaos in this world can only rise from wrongful righteousness.

When the emotions rushed back in after the numb reality I put my mind into I became dangerous to myself. I became careless. I didn't care what happened outside of my head. My mind was abused by my own thoughts constantly. My body was barely moving. I locked myself in my room. I didn't get out. I didn't let people in. I thought they could only hurt me and that they're not worth it. It felt like my mind could easily explode. So I started to harm myself physically. I had to know if I could feel, if I was real at all. I wasn't trying to kill myself at that point. But I already felt dead. I didn't expect anything from life. I knew that I was on a thin line. That I was rushing towards my demise. And in some twisted way I liked that. Pain became all I could have. It's funny though, how no one was able to see how fucked up I was. To them it was a bit of depression, exaggeration. I had experience with not having others' understanding and for once I've not tried to explain. Maybe this time it was important that I make them understand. But to me, they should have been able to see through the act. It just made me feel more betrayed. It's clear that I had nothing to lose anymore. I didn't care about anyone or myself.

This lead me to eating a handful of antidepressants. I was alone. It was the middle of the night. It was planned. I was supposed to be gone by daylight. For once I was sure. I was so sure that this was supposed to happen. This was how it's supposed to end. It was not trying to be tragic. I was just ready to go. Move on. And this was my way out. I took the pills. Laid down in my bed. And then I woke up early morning. It was still dark. And I was still here. I was supposed to be free from my hell. Seems like I can't escape it. It was the bottom line. I fell. And fell hard.

I didn't know what to do after that. I found myself in a haze for a couple of years after that. I had ups and downs. I could see myself live through the darkness inside sometimes. It never seemed enough. And at least I realized I needed more. But I also knew that I was destructive.