If all I did the first time hell made me fall into a dark whole was enjoy the feeling of freedom that came from the fact that I was “flying”, this second time was completely different. I held on to my legs and became some sort of human ball, which wouldn’t make any difference when my body found the floor and I simply exploded. But, at least, it calmed my heart and mind as I fell. I could be screaming and shaking, actually trying to fly as I waved my arms. But, in the end, nothing would make any difference, so it was better to stay calm than despair. I remembered what it was and just held on to the idea that I deserved anything that might happen to me.
I kept falling, falling and falling…
The abyss seemed endless. Then, it became so dark that even with eyes wide open I couldn’t see absolutely nothing. If it wasn’t for the wind, which was the best thing that was happening to me, ’cause it pushed away the heat, and the GPS telling me that the distance to the thrift store where I dreamt about getting some clothes was getting bigger, it seemed like I was suspended in an extremely dark place. But, since there were elements that told me I was falling down, I knew I was falling down.
A light appeared from what it seemed the bottom. I dissolved my ball shape, for, however comfortable it might have felt to create a lie that everything would be fine at the end, it didn’t help when came to seeing. I straightened myself up, on vertical position. Soon, I got to the light, it was a movie. It was my life. I could see again everything that had happened to me, from the moment of my conception (and seeing the sperm coming out of my dad’s penis, going into my mom’s vagina and getting to her uterus to be fertilized was the worst vision I’ve ever had in my life) to the moment of my suicide.
I saw my life being wasted, I saw how I set myself apart from everyone. Saw how everyone asked me to be normal, saw them fighting for me not to become what I became. At some point, I started crying, those images were too sad. My blindness, my stubbornness, my ignorance… Everything that made me was too evil. I was my own worst enemy, I was my Nemesis. I was the only responsible for what had happened to me, everyone around me tried to help me. Except myself. I could have done something, could have tried to fight, but I gave in, I lost to myself. I was weak, I was a coward. I had killed myself, in several ways, in several moments. Instead of trying to be something more, instead of trying to be normal, I just stood there, watching as I self-destruct. I wish I’d done something, but those images show me that this is my current thought. It’s the thought of someone who knows hell exists and that the suffering on Earth doesn’t compare to the suffering I experienced here. But a part of me also screams that nothing I felt here compares to what I felt on Earth, all the times I felt sad and hurt myself while I was alive were much worse than the tortures of hell. I hated being alive, I hated being dead. Deep down, and I have just found that out, I hated myself. I hated the way in which I thought, the way in which I faced the world, hated the intensity of my feelings, hated what I was. Alive, dead, on Earth, in heaven or in hell, it didn’t make any difference, I as too big a disease. I needed to heal, but there was no cure for my disease. All I could do was continuing to be myself, that pitiful creature that hated himself with so much intensity to make all the stars in heaven seem like a candle that was almost fading away.
The fall came to its end, as the movie of my life.
I had also come to an end.