De-realization

          De-realization: A feeling that one’s surroundings are not real. A feeling of distance, emotionally and physically. The ineptitude to perceive one’s own existence and the existence of others. The failure to discern reality from imagination. The fruitless triumphs one shall undergo to devoid themselves of nothingness. The unwanted removal of feeling, love, and a sense of reality. All of these definitions immaculately describe the sorrow I underwent. The sorrow that burdened me as if it lasted three score and four years. It’s impossible to comprehend, even if you’ve experienced it for yourself.

 

 

“If you are going through hell, keep going”

-Winston Churchill

 

 

Incomprehension

 

            I was always one to prefer the caliginosity of the night and its peacefulness. However, that night was a contrast. There I lay in my bed, gaze narrowing, mind drifting. I was practically asleep when it all began. What if there is no God? The words pummeled me. Emotions I had never once experienced panged me as the thought grew upon me. The intrusive thought echoed, but not quite; an echo grows quieter. An echo dies off. However, this thought grew louder and louder as it tore apart my conscience. I fought the thought away, but I was accosted yet again. What if there is no God? A question a mere mortal could not answer. It was far beyond my comprehension. I began to panic, but not quite. Panic is the sense of fleeting common sense and adrenaline.

What I was feeling was indescribable. Describing this emotion accurately would be as difficult as imagining a new color: nearly impossible. My face was still, as if it was encased in stone. I gazed at the empty ceiling as if I had seen a ghastly being. I envisioned my soul transcending into the cyclic void. The question sparked something infinitely deeper than I had previously thought. I had pondered God's existence before. It wasn’t nearly as intrusive. Upon questioning God’s existence, I would brush it off. I believe the difference this time around was that I began questioning the underlying consequences of a nonexistent God. As a child, death was my greatest fear. However, the existence of a heaven comforted that fear. If there was no heaven and no God, then what comes after life? That’s what shook me to the core. Tears dribbled down my cheeks all through the night like a leaky faucet, nonstop.

 

 

“Someday, everything will make perfect sense. So for now, laugh at

the confusion, smile through the tears, and keep reminding yourself that

 everything happens for a reason.”

 

-Anonymous

 

 

Uncertainty

 

I awoke the next morning with white streaks running down my cheeks from the tears. Something was off; I could feel it. A feeling of detachment clung to my being like a parasite. Streaks of light beamed through my window. I would often feel relieved to see the morning’s blessing upon my window; today was a contrast. The beauty that was once there was gone. The once beautifully golden beams of sunshine now appeared dull and empty.

I arose from the comfort of my bed and embarked on a day of uncertainty. Everything around me was familiar yet distant all at once. I missed the sense of touch and feel that was once present. The feeling of my bare feet caressing my cold floor had disappeared. The feeling of tiredness that lingered after waking up was no longer there. I felt scared, and alone.

I didn’t want to, but I forced myself to get myself prepared for the long day ahead of me. Every second was a struggle; every second was uncertain. I constantly thought about my existence. I don’t understand. Am I real? Is anything real? I forced myself to hold back the oncoming tears.

As I entered the shower, my bottom lip began to tremble. There was no warmth. The once steamily hot water was now cold, but not quite; cold is the opposite of warm, but what I was experiencing wasn’t the sensation of cold. It was indescribable, nearly impossible to comprehend myself. A lone tear trickled down my cheek. It became indistinguishable amongst the heavy flow of water, similar to my senses. I failed to distinguish love from hate, happiness from sadness, light from darkness, and worst of all, reality from imagination. My conscience began to dismantle itself as the unfamiliar water caressed my body, also, very unfamiliar.

The obnoxious yet effervescent conversations that panged my eardrums on the morning bus ride fell upon deaf ears. My mind was somewhere distant. It was as if my very soul was attempting to communicate with me from somewhere beyond. Time moved as if it was molasses but not nearly as sweet. These were dark times for me to endure.

 

 

“Never stop because you feel defeated. The journey to the other side is attainable only after great suffering”

-Santosh Kalwar

 

 

 

Isolation

 

It was the day after winter break came to an end. Children began to chatter aloud whilst we awaited the arrival of our teachers. I traversed into the naive sea of students. A prodigious sense of poignancy coursed through my veins. The sense of isolation unleashed havoc on my mental state of mind. Look at all of these kids glimmering with joly ole glee! You wish you could be like them, don’t you? You long for the sense of reality, don’t you? Pathetic. The sense of reality began to linger from somewhere beyond; it was as if reality was the comforting smell of a distant barbeque; you acknowledge the scent but can’t seem to figure out where it’s coming from and what it truly is.

Children blitzed into the cafeteria as if they were a pack of hyenas, feet stomping, mouths chomping. The sound of wet sneakers pierced my ears as the shoes of many slid across the glossy floors. The light began to fade, darker yet darker, until the apex dawned upon me. I was abandoned like a dog in a cage, except the dog apprehended itself. Noise rang out, a familiar one. The muffled noise transformed into an optimistic voice, “It’s my birthday.” I couldn’t care less. I truthfully despised to hear the once euphonious news.  The optimistic voice was my friend, Jack. A year ago I would’ve been delighted to hear the pleasant news; this year was a contrast. Instead of responding and congratulating him for yet another year of life, I glowered. I never knew the isolation the absence of emotion could wreak upon a soul.

I continued the rest of my day in complete silence.

 

 

 

“Like all things, triumph is rewarded with the blessing of progression. You must learn and overcome, failure is inevitable otherwise”

-Anonymous

 

 

 

Freedom

 

The clutch of the crimson hands was unprecedented. I drowned in the chronic cries of laughter as the nightmarish figures chanted harmoniously in pure hatred. I attempted to escape the everlasting grasp, yet my attempts were futile, or so I thought. The devilish bellows haunted the darkest corner of my existence. I pleaded for the torments to cease, yet my triumphs were fruitless. The wicked warlock descended from his throne. He sent a blazing inferno coursing through my body, writhing me in pain. He gazed into my being with wide, amused eyes. I thought there was no escape. As the torture continued I drove myself further and further from the people I loved. Little did I know that the face of evil before me was nothing but myself.

I never came to the realization that I was raging war on myself. There was no enemy but myself. In order to put an end to my agony and devoid myself of nothingness, I had to delve further. I had to delve to the depths of my sanity to find the source of my pain. Repetition. An epiphany struck me as if it was lightning. I encountered a sudden flashback, a flashback tracing back to the beginning of the madness. What was it that frightened me the most? The cyclic void.

I was astounded with my realization. The clock ticked periodically with the passing of time as I slowly drifted back to the place I belonged. Reality.

 

 

 

 

Reflection

As I grow physically, I grow mentally. Writing this essay helped me progress as a person and unlock my repressed memories. My mind attempted to shut out the damning memories, but history repeats itself. We can create a better future by remembering the horrid past. I intend for this essay to serve as a message to anyone struggling with mental health: there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel. However obvious that may seem, it’s true. No matter how difficult it is to break free, persevere. If I could do it then, so can you. Don’t let the cold darkness of the night prevent you from feeling the warmth of the sun.

 

 

 

 

-Judah