I opened my eyes to find out I was at the at the core of the void. There was nothing. How to describe endless, limitless Nothing?
I saw a documentary on deep ocean once. Can you imagine, narrator asked, there are creatures in here that have never encountered a solid surface in their entire existence?
Can you imagine space so vast and infinite, so enormous, stretching out forever in every conceivable direction but completely empty and unable to sustain anything let alone life? Yet I found myself there, in the belly of an endless emptiness swallowed whole. I wondered, if this is how death feels like, why do I still exist? If there is truly nothing in here, no solid surface to hold onto to, no ground to stand on, why does my body feel pulled down by inexplicable, powerful gravity? If nothing can be sustained in here, why am I still whole, why am I not disintegrating cell by cell, particle by particle, disappearing into the great Nothing?
But there was something in there: there was pain. Inconceivable emotional pain, pain as absence of love, pain as sharp as cold metal cutting through soft flesh. Pain so heavy, pain as absence of lightness, like millions of other bodies trying to squeeze themselves into my own tiny body that was already too small to for me to inhabit. Weight of millions of other bodies pressed against mine. Pain so dark, pain as absence of light, pain imprinting itself onto my soul, tattooing its scars with the blackest inks onto my skin. Pain so dark and sticky like thickest of the oils spilling into the ocean killing off all life.
So, there was pain and there was I becoming this horrifying pain personified, transforming, taking its shape. Is this something you can just snap out of? Is this just a bad attitude that requires some adjusting? Is this something you can pull yourself out of and how can you medicate yourself out of this condition?
I met a boy once, he was so colorful and free I thought his love would be my best medicine. But he couldn't really see me or understand the absence of joy in the way I moved or why I couldn't believe him when he said that life was oh so amazing. He couldn't comprehend why I wouldn't play with him or why I kept dipping my brush into black ink to paint the darkest landscapes so he moved onto loving and marrying someone as colorful and free as he was. How I could I blame him? I have become pain personified after all and pain is the absence of love and obviously I couldn't give him any. He had every right to choose someone else and I had given myself right to go back to my darkness.
I had a dream once. In that dream everything seemed wrong. A group of cloaked figures stood gathered in a circle chanting and praying. But the words of their prayers sounded wrong, perverted, blasphemous. How dare you, you're doing it wrong, I yelled at them, this is not how you should pray! Another figure appeared on my right and said: Well, who are you to judge them? There is good and there is evil in all of us, including yourself and we all have free will to choose between the two. So who are you to judge? Confused and angry I looked around to find myself surrounded by infinite emptiness again, fully emerged into the great Nothing, and I knew I've stayed here for too long and I needed to make a choice. I choose light, I choose love, I need to get the fuck out of here. I focused all of my willpower, all of my strength and conviction into manifesting a tiny light, a tiny flicker, small purple star above my head and let it guide me up, up and above until I finally felt I was leaving that unholy place.
I've escaped. I found myself somewhere else, standing on a hill above a small port town, with a beautiful view over rows of traditional stone houses, small gardens, olive trees and calm blue sea. I didn't recognize this place but it looked so idyllic, so pleasant, so inviting. Still, something felt wrong and as I reached forward with my hand I realized the scenery that seemed so real was just a huge painted canvas, an illusion, a curtain to be pulled down. So I pulled down the curtain and stepped forward to find myself in another place, this time a busy, industrial part of some big, metropolitan city. I saw cars driving by, people rushing around and I instantly knew this must be an illusion as well, this can't be a real place either. I was right, this was another fake place, another curtain to be pulled down, another layer to be peeled off. So I did it, I pulled down another canvas, walked through another projection only to find myself in yet another imaginary space. But I kept pushing through, pulling down one curtain, one projection screen at the time until after 6-7 tries I finally arrived at a place that felt real.
It was dawning and the atmosphere was still painted blue. All of my senses were engaged now, I could smell wet grass, feel the chilly wind on my bare arms, hear bird songs and feel the firm ground under my feet, I knew this place was real, not another illusion. I kept walking and I saw horses. Seeing and hearing horses brought me deep sense of relief as if in some way they (or their spirit) guided me back here. I knew I was safe now, I was at the right place. It's ok. It's ok. It's ok.
I opened my eyes, awakened from my dream to find myself at home, in a familiar bed. It was dawning and room was filled with soft blue hues. I felt safe, I felt saved. I've escaped, I've found my way out of the void and I'm never coming back.
*this text is about an experience I had about 10 years ago, I'm not currently depressed just felt like writing about it :)