Seven days of sin
Day 1 Pain. Invisible strings crossed the surface of my brain, slicing it in thousand pieces. The pain from each piece screamed to me, inevitable feeling of death or something rotten and dying come closer with every scream. The screams lifted me on their wings and pushed up, towards electric sealing, the sound was the silence now and what was silence before become now intolerable noise. The white electrified light in my eyes joined the noise, every muscle felt paralyzed and dead. I tried to fight it, fight with all my mind not to give up control. The light disappeared, the noise went away, the muscles relaxed, I felt asleep.
Day 2 Darkness. There was no temperature, I didn’t felt it. There was no moon, no stars, only some dim light was coming from somewhere. There were no earth beneath me and no sky above. Only trees. Water drops stopped falling from wet leaveless tree branches like in slow motion movie. Obscured by tasteless fog dark figure appeared from forest-like horizon. I felt it moving closer. I saw only eyes, two white eye holes in the dark thing that impersonated it. Behind those eyes I saw my life, frame after frame, day by day. And then the frames stopped, I saw nothing, not even white light, there was nothing, I didn’t felt myself. I was suddenly in nowhere, but I felt so heavy and unable to move, as if nothing consisted of small particles of enormous weight and they wanted me to become one of them, small, unimportant particle of nothing. So small that it can’t be seen and so heavy that it becomes unmovable. I was fighting the pressure, the thousand arms that were smashing me down, the thousand eyes of nothing watching me. I wanted to scream again, but there were no sound, no light. Only big black wooden cross above me. I saw myself hiding in the shadow of wooden cross, curved in the corner of white brick wall, in the shadow of The Cross.
Day 3 Fear. The greatest fears of my childhood were hornets and feeling of being smashed by enormous ball rolling over me. Hornets were and still are the fear in daylight, they do not fly in night, they are blind in darkness. But when the night comes I find myself again and again running on the city-size metal disk with enormously big ball rolling after me. It is a size of a car but it grows with every circle we make, it grows the size of the moon, the size of the earth and then suddenly I am unable to run, I become slow and the ball comes closer. I always wake up moment before the ball touches me. I sometimes notice that I want to touch the ball, touch the moon or earth-like thing that is about to squeeze me in dust. I want to stay on the metal rotating disk a bit longer to feel how it would be. I tried to die by holding my breath. I couldn’t. The ball is unreachable, every time I dream about it, it follows me but I never can touch it, I always run. Or wake up.
Day 4 Denial. Darkness will go away if I wait long enough. Red-eyed birds will not hurt me, they will leave me. They didn’t saw what I did. I’m nothing. I exist only in dreams of accidental lives. I am unimportant. I am darkness. Closing my eyes makes me part of it. Part of warm and endless darkness. Without light I become united with universe. Light is what determines fears and personality. Light makes the difference. Liquid darkness all around me is silent. Absolute peace a moment before lungs start to bleed for air. A moment of peace before strike of panic hits body from dying brain. If you hold your breath time stops, nothing happens, no one dies. If you wait enough watching the door and not moving they will come back. Everything will be ok again, the screams will disappear and scars will heal. Just wait for a moment more. Watch the door.
Day 5 Greed. I want it all. My imaginative and obscured dreams to come true. I want to be like them, the happy, shiny and greedy people from old movies. Incandescent obligations of faith and wisdom. Sad eyes and chalk white faces covered in greed. Money is not enough, money is nothing, I want fame and not fifteen seconds, I want eternity of fame and more. Realisation of this utopia unbearably burns me inside out. Greed is growing with every new dream of fate. Greed raises pain, greed makes us free, greed is perfect. Perfect weapon of mass destruction. Less is less, not any more. Greed for being free, but we never were imprisoned, we were never killed. We kill, we imprison, we torture, and still we want to break free. From ourselves and from raising greed of freedom. It’s just a voice in my head, just a noise without words. Nothing more. Or less.
Day 6 Hate.
Day 7 Absolution.