When you’ve been abused, be it emotionally or physically, you gain a voice in the back of your head. For sake of discussion, I’ll name it Erebus.
Erebus tells me a lot of things and although people like to refer to it as small, it is anything but.
None of the things Erebus tells me are good, and often I believe it.
I believe that everyone is staring at me. I believe that I am incapable of love and being loved. Most importantly, I believe that I am not good enough to even be a person.
There have been some who say, “Just ignore it, and it will go away.” They may as well tell me sing along to a happy song and pretend nothing is wrong.
But it is.
At some point along this journey of life I lost touch with reality, which is ironic because I am well aware of the current state of the world. The reality I have lost touch with is the part of me that sees the light in existence.
Tangible reality is only the surface of what reality as a whole actually is.
The deepness of consciousness, what some refer to as the soul, is real. It permeates our existence to the very atoms that our bodies subsist on. Most people’s conscious is a myriad of black and white, good and bad, resulting in a grayish hue, but those who have been abused tend to have a darkness embody them. That darkness hangs on me like a mist of intrusive thoughts, and from the darkness arose Erebus.
Sometimes a bright light seeps through providing a brief reprieve, but those times have grown few and far between.
Usually, the light emanates from a person who seems to care.
Those people do something nice for you, and for that fleeting moment Erebus’ insidious ideas are driven away, but they do not stay gone for long. You start to wonder why you can’t do nice things for that person, or anyone else for that matter. The more you explore your mind, the closer you get to the truth.
I don’t want to.
A person I looked up to decided I was not valuable, as a result I closed myself off, not just from tangible reality, but from the entire entity. For all intents and purposes, I am sleepwalking.
Pink Floyd’s album The Wall explores the concept of closing yourself off from reality. I relate more to the main character of The Wall than I do to anything else. What does that say about me?
The main character of The Wall, named Pink Floyd, is a sociopath who hurts anyone who gets close to him. His wife, mother, and fans all suffer by Floyd’s hand while they stagger outside his mental fortress, begging to be let in so they can help him.
I walk through life in a sea of nameless faces shrouded in silence, even if they are yelling.
I do not matter, and I am powerless.
Those words hold a certain taboo in society. If you utter them, people will attack you with phrases like, “You do matter,” and, “Don’t talk like that.”
Erebus tells me differently. I tell me differently.
I spent… spend, my days on a witch hunt for an exit.
Maybe I am not worthy of help, or maybe I just do not want to be.
