…right below the surface
Full or empty, bright or gloomy, inside or outside, up or down… upside-down.
Some struggle time after time trying flushing out a space in between, where to stay and to be hold, where to rest or, at worse, where to be forgotten at least for a while.
Right there below the surface, unaesthetic anesthetics flow: drugs.
We all seek for peace, at least from time to time we need to find a way out the whole world, better, we try to bargain for a truce with it. But sometimes, some need to shut the door and leave everybody out and stick their own fingers right where it hurts, right below the surface where nobody else could ever enter nor act, neither speak nor judge. That one, is a space in between. Between what one should do and what he should not. Between what one cares for and what he does not. Between what one is and what one is not. It will surely feature what he will become though.
Well, right there is where sometime one needs to let the flood in. There is dirt, there is radiance, there is cold, there is warmth. There “it is” and there “it is not”. There “self” could be discontinued and mis-matched.
Below the surface is where are no blames, no reproaches, and it’s right there where anger and pain could easily get tamed. The thing is… most know that drugs make it easier, and do them.
Time brings dust where is absence, time is where one could probably get stuck sometimes… but there inside that hollow space time has no time to be, while, on the outside, it relentlessly ticks. And chances are one will find himself older once he got back to the surface.
But guess what, if one starts feeling cozy in there, if he is stuck in between, right below the surface, the anesthetic will soon make him insensitive primarily to himself.
More than likely he will be the one to be forgotten.