Durian Mochi

 Just had a meltdown.

Interestingly enough, this was my first time where I couldn't see everything that was making me feel overwhelmed.

This time, I genuinely felt like I couldn't do it. 

Like a hill that you just can't climb anymore. Even though you have climbed other hills and slopes and steep roads; this felt like an even more impossible feat.

The growing pains in my physical and mental state have finally reached it its peak, my body and mind pushed its capabilities and it has now reached an ultimatum. 

I can't convince it to go further because I have used what little that was left. I really pushed my luck this time.

Now I'm in tatters. And I have begun to journal them here again.

I think that's the end of my tenure. This stint; craving dignity caused my indignation.

Now I wonder what is left of me. I too torn to sew back up, it leaves nothing but scars and frail seams so worn. I don't think I can mend this back again if it breaks. Heck, it's already far from wearable and I'm just pretending its a fashion statement, only I would wear with such shamelessness.

Only I. 

And I genuinely believe only I am capable of feeling this; the bottom of a bottomless pit. 

I am still falling, and falling. I can't touch the walls, maybe even just a bit and the friction could slow my descend.

But my nails are already peeled entirely off my fingers. My fingers desolately scrapped and torn at the tips as I breeze down the well. 

If pain could be described, it would be the skin tearing a line from your cuticles. It tears and lengthens and the numbing pain heating up your flesh. The discomfort forming a normality.

It never seems to heal as you are always stretching and tearing your skin. The experience of pain each time you brave a new element of strong liquids; hooks on clothing. The pain never ends.

It does, to some degree.

You improve a bit, it does not seem as intense and drowning as before. 

Only a bit. What about the rest.

Like a murky pit, already thickened from the sun's blaze and scorch. The level is below as before, but its thicker than ever.

Cleaning out the pit, was it an option before?

Maybe. 

But barely any difference.

It can still drown you if you don't walk carefully around it.

It is still thick enough to not sink you immediately. Thread it like a quick sand, flat-footed and firm. 

That's the way to power through life, as they say.

But one moment of sincerity and regards, as the books say, you will be stuck there.

Wiggling, tearing your ankle muscles, screaming for help, rubbing and scrapping away the murk. 

You are still alive, heaving, tears and sweat and torn flesh. Still breathing. 

But you are not living, you are surviving.

Life is in the hands of Death. It's waiting for you to give the heads up.