Trapped

Wake up.

If only it was so easy. Waking up, pulling myself from the grasping hands of unconsciousness. I could hear the pleas and quiet sobs from voices I once knew. I can no longer decipher who they are, or even if they’re really there. Sometimes the fog of sleep lifts, only slightly, and I believe I can feel my mother’s hand on my cheek, or hear my father’s snores. I try to reach out to those sensations, but I am thrown once again into unpleasant slumber.

Had I known that I would be living through Death I would have lived my life so differently. I would have loved openly, and given my all to activities I actually enjoyed. I would have said yes to more outings with my friends. I would have proposed to my partner. I would have done good, but there is nothing I could do now anyway. I am trapped in endless suffering. A constant dance between Life and Death. Each of them holds my hand in theirs’. Life’s grasp is limp, and Death’s purples my fingers and makes my bones grind together in discordant agony.

Wake up.

This Voice, so persistent, so desperate makes me want so badly. I want to live, and I want to dance, and I want to cry. I want to drink in the words of the Voice and exist only in its quiet agony. It feels as though I am drowning in want. Perhaps it is not want but need. I need to open my eyes, follow the Voice, wake up, wake up, wake up.

I can’t take it anymore. I can feel anxiety and anger- deep and powerful- welling up within me. I want to scream, and thrash, and tear something to pieces. It feels as though I am being constricted, a rope winding around my body, digging into my skin and crushing my organs. A scream sits on my lips and I cannot take it.

Wake up.

Where only moments ago the Voice had been comforting, now it is pulling the rope, pulling it tight, tight, tight. The anger within my soul has reached a point beyond reason. It is a visceral feeling, to be so trapped. I cannot speak, or cry, or tell the Voice to be quiet. I am not who I once was. I am nothing but a lost soul, angry, trapped, forgotten. I am anger and agony and apprehension. I am nothing and I am everything. I am cursed to exist in a limbo, so far from heaven, but too cold to be hell, I am living in the blackness of the universe. If my body could respond to anything my brain was screaming at it, I would sob uncontrollably. I can feel the pounding ache of tears throughout my entire being, but I cannot release the tension.

I can feel myself losing control. The ache, the fear, the agony, they’re all that is left of me. If only I could-

Wake up.

That’s all it took. The Voice was quiet, as though this was its final hurrah before giving in to my death. I could not bear to hear it so very sad. Everything- the ache, the fear, the agony- seeped out of my soul, dripping like tears down my incorporeal form. There was nothing left but a want to follow the voice. I opened my eyes, finally, finally opened my eyes. The brightness of the world flooded my senses. Distantly I could hear sobs, and the Voice was saying something indecipherable. I think perhaps it was praying. I looked over to where the Voice was coming from, and there sat the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. He was crying, but a smile was creeping into his features.

He said something, but I could not hear what it was. It looked, perhaps, like he was whispering my name. I smiled, and then, I cried. Finally, I was free. Death had tried too hard to hold on, and finally, I was allowed back into Life’s gentle embrace. I could sing if I wanted. I could dance. I could cry, and I could live.