Nausea

I woke up naked, alone, sweating and feeling like a demon borrowed its way into my chest and sunk itself there. Breathless, I got up and looked around me. It was my room, but it also wasn’t. Nothing was where it should be, but it was just as I left it. I reach out’ and grab for my phone, hoping there’s some app to fix this mess up. There isn’t. I threw my phone aside, and sunk my face under my pillow.

“What are you doing, looking for salvation anyway?” I asked myself.
I was breathing easy again, the prospect of impending doom relaxes me.  I looked at myself in the mirror across my bed. My face felt longer than it was the day before. The only other instance where  I felt like this was the first time I woke up in prison, and the reality dawned on me, that I will be there for a while. My time was undetermined, but definite.

Even my stomach felt the dread. All it wanted to do was puke out that God damned demon in my lungs. There’s no getting rid of it. Not anymore. I’ve surrendered myself. I am a prisoner of birth. I’m bound to the serene destruction the world has in store for any mental faculties left to me by now. I am in no sense liberated from my freedom. I am simply astonishingly unmoved by it. The world is beautiful, but I don’t care.

The demon nestled himself comfortably. He only stings a little, but I know he’s there. Any time now, he’ll pop up, rip me in shreds and break me down. But until then, I’m solid on my two legs. Not out of a drive, some purpose. Simply because I have no other choice, but for how long, that too I can’t say.

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