Still standing

Soft, fiery crimson tendrils slip loosely down a spine. Smoky shades of jade conceal a pair of haggard, bloodshot emerald eyes. Lips that have cried a pain all their own glisten with a waxy shine. I stand in the middle of the floor, my lungs burning, legs aching, my heart hammering loud deep within my chest. Bodies move all around me; swaying, grinding, jumping to a beat that sounds like a distant melody. I feel drops of perspiration from their efforts sprinkle my skin in their close proximity as I shiver at my core, innumerable Goosebumps casing my entire body. I am in the midst of over 500 people, dancing, laughing, smiling, but it is at this moment in time that I have never felt more alone.

Last night brought an abrupt end to a seemingly semi-positive path, per say. After becoming aware and focused on my daunting task at hand and the consequences of what will inevitably become if not completed, one may say that for the first time in a while, I was determined to beat This. Granted, that is not to say that everything miraculously turned peachy and the angels of the Heavens sang a hallelujah chorus every time I took a bite, but I was taking steps towards what needs to be done. Baby steps, but steps nonetheless. I awoke yesterday to a laundry list of tasks that had to be done, getting ready for prom among the bottom twenty. Truly, no part of me actually sought to go—excluding the fact that I was escorting myself, not even a group of friends to mask the hideous social discrepancy of my being—but a dear woman had already expended a patient sum of time fashioning an arrangement of flowers just for me. There was nothing unbearably awful about the day preceding my arrival downtown, just the detail of my feeling a bit under the weather (indubitably due to my compulsory restricting that day) and the obscure clouds of depression were indeed a tad too copious. I was, however, firm in my ambition to enjoy myself that evening and forget about everything else for just one night. Perhaps I am just too imbecilic to defend myself against the mounting feelings of pessimism, but after only around 20 minutes of the excursion, I craved nothing more than to leave.

But I stayed.

I remained because I supposed it would get better. Maybe, I figured, something prodigious will happen and I will start to feel a sense of excitement or joy. Perchance I will get asked to dance, or drag up the courage myself to be the crazy one dancing alone. No one notices the lonely. I am not socially awkward, nor am I shy. I have always been the very outgoing, down-to-earth, bubbly persona of a redheaded lady. However, during the course of events that have taken place since I was eight, and the toll that my illness has taken on me, I have grown to fancy the comfort of isolation as opposed to the warm ambiguity of another’s company. Childhood/teenage friendships never quite last, due mostly to my maturity level in contrast with that of others’ my own age. Relationships, there have been a few, but they essentially boiled down to my naivety in the human race and/or their impatience with my trust issues. It is not near the cheeriest way of going about life, I will admit, but it is the only way I know how at the moment. Until I am not living on my deathbed every bloody second of my life, I will never be able to function properly in the midst of the syndicate of another’s presence in my life.

Consequently, the result of my evening came as no surprise to me. I found insecurities raging with brutal force, the Voice determined to compare my body and talents to every living specimen in the room, heaven-forbid we exclude the flies that buzzed around. I felt a dull ache within my heart, a yearning for the comfort of a embrace from someone of compassion. I longed a touch, a glance, a smoldering dance beneath the lights. I craved the sharing of a laugh with another so close to me, we would call ourselves siblings. I found myself in the midst of this cacophony of emotions, unprepared and unarmed against their manic, blatant omnipotence.

I departed shortly before midnight, tears stinging the edges of my partially opened eyes, willing my broken tear ducts to let loose the brewing ocean. None came. Numbly, I slipped out of my shoes, one foot at a time, and hung my dress on the doorframe of my closet. I swiped away the paint that concealed my scarred complexion, and allowed my curls to fall in clumps along the contours of my face. Sliding into bed, I prayed a quick apology to The One Above, asking for forgiveness of my horrid musings and the blessing on all of the ones that I love.

And then I disappeared.

Blackness. It is a blank canvas of motion and sound, images incomprehensible as my subconscious takes control. My sleeping seems as though it lasts for years, and there are times upon my awakening that I cannot determine whether I am sleeping or conscious. Several times throughout each day I find myself unable to recognize any key mechanism of life to signify that I am not in some prolonged dream.

I sit here this morning, hunger pains rupturing a tremor through my veins, and I am contemplating a word for exactly where I am, both physically and mentally speaking. I am throbbing, starving, and I want nothing more than to sleep away the day in some medically-induced manner, but I know deep down that I cannot. Today I have to fight, I have to stand up to the Voice that devises my death; I will not allow the events of yesterday to define me. I am still breathing, I have not gave in yet, and until the moment that I have taken my final breaths of the icy, polluted air upon this earth, leaving behind a lifetime of mourning and pain to those whom I love, I have not failed.

I may be down, but I cannot be out.

~ by candyshele1204 on April 29, 2012.

12 Responses to “Still standing”

  1. I think you are far more couragous than you give yourself credit for. I would never have had the strength to go it alone And you must try to remember that although you saw yourself surrounded by all these people I guarentee you were not the only one who felt as if they were standing alone. Some people are better at masking their pain than others some deny it and pretend everything is okay. With your blog you do something far more productive you embrace your pain, inspect it and will learn from it. You help others as you seek to heal yourself and guess what their are very few who can claim to have that gift.

    • Your words truly touched my heart. Thank you. You brought up a point that I never have actually thought of. I keep wondering if my blog is resulting in nothing more than my embracing my pain; however, you helped me to see that I am, indeed, analyzing and learning from it. Thank you.

      • We live in a society which teaches us to hide pain tells us it makes us weak the reality is those who face their pain are the ones who will survive and be all the stronger for it

      • I must say that I completely agree–social stigma ensues to convince us all that we are weak, broken if we present a persona of anything other than joy. It teaches us to run away from our emotions, and deny their existance.

      • Just worked out how to edit my blogroll you shall be appearing there shortly

      • Oh my, why thank you. It is quite the honor. Thank you for helping me to share my story.

  2. Exactly how I feel at times…..though you are brave enough to decide and go to the place, I might have just decided to stay in the darkness, inside my room, thinking why I didn’t go, but not knowing….

    Way to go girl, Way to Go!!

    • Thank is a rather unfortunate feeling..but I did it..So I guess I cannot submit to the notion that I failed, eh?

      • No you can’t. It was a victory, for you, and for everyone who feels like you (including me). Thanks for trying…..

      • You are absolutely correct. I am so very glad that you could share this experience/emphasize in the victory.. However unfortunately it may have came. Have a good day.

      • If everything will come in easy, and fortunately, then what will be the fun in getting it….. Fun is in struggling, in fighting, in dumping the endless chances of loosing aside, and winning…..

        Fun is in trying, with all you got.

      • This is true..

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