|Dane DeHaan as Lucien Carr in Kill Your Darlings (2013) by John Krokidas|
Because I’m scared. I’m fucking terrified.
One day I decided to just sail in a small boat, didn’t care that the sea – the beautiful, enormous sea, looked like it could swallow me anytime. The weather looked fine anyway. Bright blue with no sign of clouds. So I just sailed. I sailed because I think I held myself for too long. I couldn’t stay.
But who knows, thunder and hurricane came without a warning. I was clueless, alone in the middle of the ocean. It was the kind of hurricane that not only tore my boat. But also my body.
Every inch of my skin.
My eyes. So those pair now see things kinda differently. Those eyes can’t drop a single tear.
My heart. Right on that spot. After all the wounds got slashed to my being, that special spot got hit as well.
Then it’s all went numb as I drowned in infinite depth. I can’t feel anything. Anything at all. I lost all of the sensitivity. All I feel is fear. When I feel nothing, I don’t exactly feel nothing. I’m scared that I can’t feel for the rest of my life.
I remember it was hurt. It was terribly painful. I wanted to run to the top of the hill ‘til my feet went blister. I wanted to scream loudly and shrilly ‘til my vocal cords break, ‘til people ears went disfunctional. Then when the pain slowly faded, I can’t have a single emotion that I started being frustrated.
Me. The Unlucky One.
This is me in the middle of a bridge. I can go back, trying to bear all the tremendous aches once again, or I can go on letting my physical form be just a body without a heart. or a little better, with a frozen heart. a body with only a brain, because that’s what help me in the past few months. A brain full of rational thoughts. You need a rational thoughts, but you also need a conscience to make your human system works well. Everytime I let my heart melt a bit, all I feel is that ache again.
I want to feel again. I want to laugh without worrying that all I need is a one loud laughter before it turned into a blue lament. I want to give love with an honest sincerity to people without them ended up throwing my affection like a filthy garbage, leaving me with the very trash that made me feel like I am a trash myself. I want to care. Yes, it is easier to not give a damn, but trust me sometimes you long to feel humanly. To feel that something still happens in you.
I am terrified. I’m afraid that someday I wake up in the morning and I can’t admire the sunrise. That I wouldn’t hum my rhythm when the birds sing. I’m afraid that when a full moon peeks from clouds, I’m just gonna pull my curtains to hide it. I am afraid that one day, the simplest form of beauty couldn’t touch that special nook in my heart any longer.
Being careless and give a zero fuck probably free you most of the time, but not all the time. This is a self-defense mechanism, and you have to pay for its protection, but the price is to become the monster itself.
I don’t wanna stay here. In the trap. In fear. In the cold. In this space dementia.