The water bottle in my hand has been empty for what it feels like aeons.
I've just awoken from a nightmare in broad daylight, and it's taking me more time than I thought to gather myself up again. I'm not a stranger to horror-filled dreams where being chased or captured by an unknown entity leaves you shaken and breathless. These are a common occurrence in my day to day life, and they hardly ever phase me now.
True nightmares, to me, aren't about these chases and runs. They are designed by the truths or lies my heart has chosen to believe, all wrapped up in a setting that feels too real for it to seem like a dream. Words are, most of the time, the most haunting thing that scares and cuts me deep, and I fumble for breath every time these come around, and I get drowned by words spoken to me without an inch of mercy. Used in the right way, even lies sometimes sound more real than the truth. I know this because I've done this countless times in my life. So maybe it's only fair that I receive the same medicine I give out, just to remind me what I truly am, and what I've done.
Emotions are, at this point, rather numb. I don't feel much. From aching pain to heart-wrenching sadness, I've locked them up in a room inside my mind, never to visit again. And though this is helping me keep sane, I know that the room is turning into boiling lava, waiting to consume me the moment I lose focus.
The entangled hand in mine helps to drown these demons out. His smile is like an anchor these days. The very thing I hold onto as I awake and sleep, imagining that hand in mine even when I know he isn't here. Walks along the same bleak city get a bit of colour when he's with me, and I lose myself in his presence whenever he comes around.
Sometimes I feel as though I'm using this ecstasy and comfort to get rid of the everlasting agony inside me. A dying heart scrambling to breathe with the last string of hope. But I know this is more than just that. When my mind is clear and not full of bile, I can see it for what it truly is.
It's a home. A place to rest my head when things get tough. Through all the madness in my life, this is the one thing I managed to build and create. The one thing I can come back to. And the one thing I intend to keep forever.
Because the freedom received and the comfort gained from his presence is something that I know can't be replaced. It's a sensation that will last a lifetime, and he, among everything that is variable in my life, is a constant; unchanged and forever present.
It's not until you find yourself trapped in a cage like the animals from a zoo, that you understand the concept of what freedom entails. My mind is both my cage and salvation. It traps me, has trapped me for good, and it teaches me what life is when nothing else could. But being trapped, is a lonely little concept. It detaches you from the outside world, keeps you safe, yes, but also makes you suffer. Stay like this for a while, and you might just lose the meaning of what it's like to be free. I had almost lost mine until he stepped up and showed me the way once again. And like a lost puppy, I follow him blindly these days, towards the eternal light that I know waits for me at the end.
The cigarette in my hand burns as time passes, reminding me that even the greatest ecstasies aren't meant to last forever. But his presence and existence is something I'm willing to fight tooth and nail to keep. The peace I've searched for all my life has finally shown its face, and I'll be a fool to let it go.
It's selfish reasoning; a linear line of thought related to survival. But I was born selfish. And if my self-helping attitude keeps him around, I am willing to stay selfish until my very last breath.