At times,I blamed my mind's tendency for mimicking labyrinths solely on engulfing too much information. I’ve came to realize that continuously overdosing on information takes you further from good, closer to madness.
I used to put what I perceived through millions of different paths in my mind, trillions of different thinking machines and established too many illogical statements, simply to end up with everything intertwined, confusing and meaningless. Whatever I heard or sawI decided to process it. Process differently every single day.
I was never able to stay true to one primary ideology. Instead, life managed to discard my vulnerable mind with the regularity of every single day that floated past my eyes.
And in the end,
The only entity that remained to swirl inside my head,was the thought of the sky hanging above my lifeless body.
Empty. Transparent. Euphorically fulfilling.
Ahead of me, there was endless ocean of rooftops, each of a different shape. Each with an infinite amount of stories resting beneath, those quiet selfassured tales that remained as Infinity’s secret, forever. I stepped onto the icy surface of the roof. The soles of my feet shrank capriciously, outraged by the low temperatures of the asymmetric bricks. As they continued to demand warmth, the rest of my body began to respond to the ruthless weather, aching and drowning beneath the waves of convulsive despair. Ignorant, blank and abstracted, I continued to outstep reality, and with every move the tasteful pleasure of my masochistic actions became stronger. Ruthless nordic breeze mockingly penetrated my flesh with spiny air currents,
targeting every compressed cell of my immateriality. Each second that echoed off the flat sides of my bones, generously donated power to the speculations that had incisively dragged me to the roof. Those seemingly miniature measures of time, that were soon to become my personal murderers, my own forbidden carriers of muddy contentment. They were the evil children of time, flawlessly sardonic workaholics, that had finally succeeded to complete their mother’s order: placed death upon my frosty skin. I did not hesitate to receive it with deep acceptance that had been rising beneath my chest for one and a half dimly possessive years.
At this point I stopped moving, and cautiously exhaled a fragile cumulation of inflated fog, watching it climb up the solid slopes of winter’s air with intensifying jealousy. Accelerating upwards so serenely, that I immediately begun to feel agony build up inside my throat. Why was it able to leave earth so decidedly and vigorously, while I was still here, still alive in this cruel world of pain and misfortune? I suddenly began to recognize the miniscule holes in the confidence, which I had thoughtlessly relied on up until that moment. Then, instinctively, I began to cry. The tears seemed infinite, crawling out of my hollow eyes with an increasingly importunate speed. It seemed to me that each crystallised collection of water called more identical ones to follow, and soon my senseless face was covered with a thin layer of H2O’s
dark feast, dedicated purely to sorrow. Dissolving in a whirlpool of despair, I swiped the wind with the palms of my hands and stretched them out to the clouds, naively, like a little girl trying to reach for a lollipop. Disappearing in a vacuum of anticipation, I could almost taste the contaminated beauty of my treat;taste the dissociation, the mad mindlessness of insanity, that had patiently awaited my arrival since the day I was born.
Suddenly, death took my embarrassed mind by its hand and quietly whispered “You have craved this for too long. Take flight, my love. Free yourself, my dearest devil.”
It was then, when I lost consciousness. Collapsed on the damned roof like a heavy bag of useless organs, the definition of pollution, an expired product eaten by fungi of sorrow.
That day, they found me. Alive.