BACKSLIDING

And then, all of a sudden, you feel like everything is slipping through your fingers again. So confidently were you beginning to see the jigsaw fall into place. So happily were you writing your friends, in your journal, on the thin matter that envelops your dreams – i think i’m finally headed in the right direction. As if you had not gone through this already! Yet every time you swear to yourself was the last.

But realising it is useless, it won’t bring you any grace. It’s too late. Inspiration fades, focus blurs, your days start to melt into each other, a comforting sense of sameness envelops you so slowly and subtly that when you manage to unglue your eyes to the sad reality of things, the cocoon is too tight for your limbs to move. You are, once again, stuck.

The beauty of your surroundings irritates you; your physical well being starts turning against you. Restlessness pervades every muscle, every movement, every second of the day, making it impossible to sit still, to unclench your jaw, to relax your forehead, to focus on anything. You craved presence but the cocoon is only about dreaming. You knew this and yet, here you are. Again!

Every night you promise to yourself that tomorrow will be different, tomorrow you will no longer be sleepwalking. And every morning you sigh, look at your notebook, sigh more deeply and sadly, and finally reach for your phone. For that sweet comforting numbing. How has this struggle gotten so hard, how is every movement so heavy?? Every evening, by the fire, you promise to yourself that tomorrow you won’t eat your restlessness away, yet all you can think of the coming day is the next snack or the next coffee or the next break. Food occupies your thoughts with an intensity you were sure belonged to the past. You hate yourself with a coldness so burning it manages to momentarily shake you awake.

But it never lasts and you know it, un fuoco di paglia. You are too used to it.

Wrapped in your cocoon, you shiver with restlessness and frustration. Unable to break free, you start pointing fingers, as if making lists of culprits and errors will make the process of awakening easier. It won’t.

Yet you persevere. It’s the job i hate. It’s staying at my parents’. It’s my eyes, tired from all the screen time. It’s my insecurities, my eating disorder, my developmental trauma. It’s capitalism.

Oscillating between self loathing and hatred for this world i was so doomed to inhabit, days go by and no word is written. Your sense of self, obtained at the cost of so much, is patiently eaten away by the spider of Sloth who slowly dissolves her preys with her sweet deadly poison. Like a cricket being eaten alive, you kick out of a reflex rather than a genuine desire to live.

And then, all of a sudden, you catch yourself wishing to fall asleep forever.

I’m so tired! One of these days again!