Between Life and Death

<sub>Ever since I can remeber, I've always been a solitary traveler. The roads to nowhere and everywhere were tempting regardless of the season or the time of day. And each time my heart and soul were somehow disturbed and full of doubts, I used to find a miraculous healing in going on yet another journey. The further, the better and if it was some place where I've never been before, the thrill and excitement were even stronger.

I remember going on such a healing trip a few days after his light has gone out. A dreamer he was, constantly feeling too much for a healthy man of his age. The sudden end of his own journey through this ungrateful world has resulted in rivers full of tears. Which, of course, I had to give up - I used to tell myself that drowning in my own sadness won't do me or the people I love and admire any good. Won't bring back the dead and so on, and so forth. It was the end of spring, with beautiful sunshine everywhere I went and all the world was green. Funny how during this pretty and lively time of the year a human heart can be filled with such a deadly darkness. Sometimes we don't have the power to get out of the box in which we are mercilessly trapped by our own demons (or someone else's words and glares). At the time I didn't fully realise how was that even possible. Though his image didn't leave my thoughts for a single minute.
All that I could do was to step on a newly discovered mountain and somehow make the sorrow fly away. Life was too precious to turn the sunny days in the open air into a prison cell. At least in my interpretation.

Time went by, I moved on and seasons have changed. No final month of any summer has ever been so fine, inspiring, enjoyable. So many friendly faces in my surrounding, almost unbelievable nowadays. How was I suppose to know that my darkest days were just around the corner? I guess no one has the ability to predict our little private apocalypse. As it begins long before we finally decide to cut ourselves out of the canvas of life, painted by God himself, and stop our eyes from seing, ears from hearing, hearts from beating. Entirely and forever.
I fell into a deep, black hole. Or no, not suddenly. It was a constant falling, with no relief, just an endless insecurity. Fearlessness has left me completely when I came to a conclusion that no journey, no matter how pleasant, could make my hours a little more worthwile. Each day was torture, each night - hell. Life turned out to be unberable and I was unberable to everyone who has had the misfortune to know me. I even began to feel surprised that mirrors didn't crack each time I stepped in front of them. Unsatisfied with the fact that I had to get up every morning and, oh God, live my life, according to a schedule and some stiff moral values, human laws, family responsibilities, etc., etc., the only thing I desperately wished for was to die. To sleep. All my plans were meaningless, I didn't wish to visit beautiful places or meet interesting people anymore, I even didn't want my health back, nor my mother to hug me. All I needed was a hole in the ground where I could rest - at last some place to call my own. Where I wouldn't have to explain my imperfection to anyone.
When at last I've made a decision and found a proper tool, convinced that my time on this frozen planet will be finally over, everything has stopped for a moment, like in a bad quality movie. Before I knew it, something took me in and drove me out of the black hole and turned my whole world upside down. Pulled me up to the ground, didn't let my trembling hand go. Forced me to abandon the idea of drowning in a black sea of my own blood. Filled my lungs with clear air instead. A misty breath. I knew that face and the voice. I have recognised the force that stopped my hand immediately. It was the middle of the night. No one else has been around. No one else has seen and felt that indescribable inner pain, except for him, the one who has already been through the hell on earth. And although he didn't succeed in his own struggle, months later, on a cold winter night, my life's been saved.

I've been to hell and back. Felt a sudden longing for life, which I've been trying to leave behind. I opened my eyes with relief. There it was, all the brightness, just as he said, right in front of me. I had no choice but to step into a foggy forest. The silence became music to my ears. I was alone, as I have always been, but this time it didn't bother me at all. The ground was covered with white carpets of snow. A peaceful surrounding I ought to know, but I didn't, until then. Suddenly I've become the character in a book, a tale from the past, an artistic motion picture. The speaker in a poem. With dreams coming back to life. A solitary traveler, once again.
And although I still tend to be afraid, have doubts in myself, or feel lost in the endless circles of my life, which has its ups and downs, I feel his presence by my side. And it helps me not to give up. Despite the fact that I can't look into his eyes, nor hold his hand, I'm not alone for even one second. He's perhaps the only friend who will never get bored of me. Who accepts the fact that I'm not always strong and lively, nor in the mood to have fun and I don't feel my age, but older. That I have regrets and will be wearing some of the scars for the rest of my life. Makes me remember that I don't need to be perfect in order to respect myslef. And not to dream about going back to my little private hell, until the end of eternity. To walk the road of my own choice, to run, as far as I can. Not to repeat his mistakes. Even if the whole world would try to stop me.
I know that he waits for me, out there, in the brightness, but it's going to take time until we meet. I'm never going to crucify myself again.</sub>



Story & photo - mine.


Somewhere near Lysa Polana, Slovakia, 2009.