Sunday, 9 February 2014

Chocking Over a Rising Sun (A Short Story)

Chocking can be experienced in one of two cases; either you’re chocking on your own death, or you’re chocking on emotions and feelings that you can’t express. Not being able to express emotions is ruthless on its own account, and when persists for an ample duration of time, it turns into a killing symptom that can be identified medically as chocking. Here it’s metaphorical of course, but it’s psychologically fatal nevertheless. That’s what happened to her after not being able to identify her illness on the appearance of the first symptoms of emotional malfunction.

It was like cancer cells spreading, it was eating her from the inside out, and she was unable to assist with reversing its destructive actions. She couldn’t run, neither could she hide. After all, how could someone run from himself but to himself? The thing is, herself was vacant and irresponsive to her calls to snatch her from her trips. This mediator inside of any of us was malfunctioning as a result of the feelings left unsaid and undetermined within her; they were chocking her on words not expressed but carved in the back of her head with a fire blade that was hammered on a volcano fire. The invincible version of her has gone, leaving her only to the one that she can’t tolerate; her vulnerable soul.

As complicated as implied, this is only a mere reflection of her tangled mind. Her inability to act against the combat taking place within her was only a result of suppressing it for too long. Being always the one staying strong can be as devouring as acknowledging one’s weaknesses and helplessness. It isn’t one of her traits to come clean about something that bothered her, she has always been a Woman of Steel.

Now, everything can only be seen through the gaps that she left for herself by her prints; a life so blurry with no definitions. Her pain set everything on fire, melting the snow that was covering her heart. The sun which rose on the following day was cold enough to condense the vapor of her rage, leaving everything in the darkness of her despair. Her aching soul can be seen through the watery glare, hovering on the gloomy city, the city of her numbed mind. She’s waiting for the right time to strike back with full force, taking her revenge upon the days that caused her vanity.

She exploded, she flipped the switch and broke through her bars. Her words, although not conveyed, were expressed through her actions breathing fire. Her anger turned into a kind of invincible strength, a kind that she didn’t know existed in her. It seems that the sun that crystalized her rage is the same sun that washed her agony away by intensifying her aches and burns, turning them into a kind of fueling power for her to pursue her life course. Her act of mutiny against herself and the world only resulted in a battle that ended with a tie and a new power conquering the two foes under one rule, her rule. The maneuvering ended when she discovered that she’d ran out of places to resort to so she can only now resort to herself knowing that it was herself from whom she was hiding. By accepting herself and her temporary phase of timelessness, she gained back her sense of time and her faith in herself.

Accepting one’s helplessness and weaknesses is only one way to discover the strengths that one has. Complying with the urge of breaking from one’s self can sometimes be healthy. After all, there is always a new dawn after every killing darkness and there is always a shining sun to dry the rain and melt the snow. Vulnerability as another face of strength, you should experience helplessness to challenge your potentials and know your extremes. My Friend to whom I’m dedicating this, you’re one of the strongest females I’ve met, you’re persistent and self-assured and self-confident. You’ll get over this phase of depression, as long as you’re breathing. You’ll be fighting because you give me strength and I am not willing to be deprived that by you. 

Dedicated to Deena Heggi <3 I Love You :*

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