Chapter I: Restless Bliss

My blank stare looks at nothing; dead eyes that rest their gaze at the empty space that is my wall; gray, cement walls; gray as my life; as my hopes. I raise the bottle that rests in my left hand and I make a toast to myself.

“Drown you bastard. Just. Simply. Die.”

But rest won’t come so easy; I know. I have tried to achieve the eternal sleep more than once. But failure was met with cheering. I know that I shouldn’t give up; I’ve listened to the stories. Well… it will require more than fairytales to return to my soul what I’ve lost.

I let my stare drift; from the emptiness of a fading wall, to the multitude of broken glasses; remains of a sinful life. My only companion, my booze, and I, as an ungrateful friend, have smashed its container to bits; once, twice, uncountable times; bottles have smashed on this floor, a mattress of shards. I look at them, and my hands move simultaneously. In my left hand a drink to sustain me, in my right a pen to ease my heart, my eyes… my eyes scanning the shards, lost in their perfect mirage as the light that breaks through the crumbled windows illuminates them; an illusion of colors springing out of them… and my hands move in tandem to the countless colors that leap forth; in the rhythm that the images that fill, once again, my mind dictate...

Fragments of colors.
Colors like black.
Raven black hair gently flowing in the breeze.
Shards of realities.
Cascading memories that have yet to find their way into existence.
A thousand needles that pierce the loose fabric I call skin.
A self deformed beyond recognition.
A cardboard box.
Tequila.
He moves, he enters the building.
A clock chimes twelve.
A gunshot.
Pain.
The blood runs freely out of me, paints the blond hair to a crimson color.
Tequila.
A blank wall stares intimidating at me.
Pain.
A knife, a scream; I scream.
The pencil moves again, it scratches down things.
Necessity.
Singularities that try to enter our world; one way or another; I’ll give them the other.
Alcohol; runs thickly into my veins; needed.
A blank wall, next to a cardboard; or is this the other way around?
Tequila.
A speeding truck.
A child runs to pick up his ball.
A mother runs to pick up the shattered pieces of her life.
A father cries huddling some child’s clothes.
Tequila.
“Fuck… empty”
Was that my voice? It’s been long since I heard it.
A gun.
A gunshot.
A pause.
Another gunshot.
Fragments of colors.
The color is red.
Blood red.
Pain.
A million pictures more; each one more gruesome than the other.
The cardboard rots away.
A blank wall collapses; newer, better walls start rising.
A company thinks that cement is the only thing that is needed to build a home.
Thousands employees.
He wears a red hat. He smiles. He- I supervise. I return home. My wife is missing. Tequila. Oh yeah… none left.
I need alcohol.
Lots of it; fast.
My hand trembles as I write.
No time now; no strength; later; after the booze.
Raven black hair runs.
Stained shirt kneels and grabs his chest.
Donuts fall.
Raven black hair looks at a book.
I close a book.
I need booze; I need to see the blank wall.

I feel my strength fading. My weak fingers cannot hold anything anymore; they move as if they have their own will. Something falls; the sound as it crashes to the ground deafens my sensitive ears, a book shouldn’t make such sounds. Colors fly around me as I try to stand up. Reality refuses my rightful place as a human, she starts to dance around me, tries to confuse my footsteps. Yes, she has managed it, I fall. I hit something soft, it is the cardboard … I hope at least that it is the cardboard. Images fade. Gosh I’m pissed. How much alcohol runs in my veins right now? I should have died. I shouldn’t have died. It is toying with me; destiny laughs in my face. But I know I can win right now. My hand rests on a wall, a blank wall if I remember correctly. I’ll follow this to the exit. I’ll follow this to a haven; to a liquor store.

Damn. Why did I have to go out again? Noises, they keep attacking my senses. Hell is loose in my brain. A million pains and tortures participating in a macabre dance; their only goal to have their five minutes of fame in the chaotic stage they have set in my mind. I can’t battle them, I have already lost. But there is serenity in this acceptance of defeat, there is always this fine point between apathy and bliss. I have surrendered myself as their playground, and they let me survive, even if it is only so that they can torment me more. But this is a hell I am familiar with. Each step takes me away from it, each step brings me closer to another violent pit, each step sparks another unimaginable terror in my memory. The old ones are still there; their scars too deep in my psyche to simply subside because I left. But my mind, almost like a bottomless pit, keeps devouring those new vile sensations. Pain, agony, misery, destruction; they keep adding up in the pile. Horrors that no sane human could ever conceive fill me up. I hope that I won’t burst… today. I hope that I can make the trip back and forth. I hope that this small part of my mind that isn’t yet mad will hold. I have to, or everything will fall apart.

But it is hard. The alcohol is starting to dissipate in my veins. The horrors rub their hands in glee as they get ready to enter me again; and those horrors are new. I’m unprepared to face them. I take a step. A lady runs somewhere, she is carrying a bag. An envelope rests in there. She is ignorant of what this envelope will spark; but I know… Another step. I scream. I can’t help it; a red hot iron is poking my eyes out. Someone sticks something in my nails. I don’t know what it is, but it hurts; a lot. I scream again. Burning oil covers the last remaining skin of my body. It passes and I force my worn out body to move forward.

Fresh air. It stinks of life and death. I stink of booze. I think I’m going to vomit. An elder woman looks at me; she looks weird, she smiles. I take a step towards her; and I know; she’ll die; probably by a gunshot; probably in some months. Sorrow fills my heart again, I liked that woman, for a split second I felt comfortable. But the slight images of hopes that she sparked were swiftly crashed by the weight of the world’s injustices. Another step. I’m strong now, nearing my goal, nearing oblivion. I push a door. I enter. I empty my pockets in the counter. The shopkeeper is stunned; I guess he hasn’t seen anyone emptying a bottle of tequila in less than a minute. I buy another one. I leave.

Bliss.

Now if only I could find my way back… and pray. Pray that the new horrors that have entered me are not so strong so as to win over the old ones. I need my old home now. I need my old demons to triumph above the new ones. I need to strengthen the maddening violence I felt there. It was a violence I have won over by surrendering to it; I doubt I can do so again without losing the last bit of my sanity…

The booze is starting to work. My memory starts to fade… I don’t know where I am now. I just know that this is a new place, new images, new pains. I prefer the old ones, I’m used to them. I just know that I must leave this place.