Posts
By Thomas Miller
Thomas M was alone in his room, his body shaking with
sobs that he tried to keep silent. He had not seen the sun in days, his world a darkened prison of his own making. He had no one to turn to, no one to help him in his desperate loneliness. He felt the soft embrace of the shadows, their cold embrace letting him know that he was not alone, though he wanted to be.
He had no hope of escape, no dreams of a better life. He knew that he was merely existing, a shell of a man that was slowly being hollowed out by the demons' claws. He had prayed, screamed, begged for deliverance from his torment, but no one seemed to hear him. The agony was inescapable, eating away at his soul like a slow burning fire, consuming him until nothing remained.
He had thought of ending his life, of taking away the pain, but the prospect of death seemed almost as horrible as living. He was stuck, trapped in a netherworld of his own making, of despair and hopelessness.
And then his brother came in with a glass of water. It was a silent gesture of kindness, the only thing that could bring Thomas a sliver of hope in this dark and dreary world. His brother understood, and though his own life was far from ideal, he was still willing to offer solace to his brother.
Thomas took the glass, his hands shaking, and drank hungrily. The water was cold and refreshing and for a moment he felt a sense of peace wash over him. But it was short-lived, and soon the demons were back, clawing at his soul, merciless in their pursuit of his sanity.
He wanted to scream, to cry, to give in to the temptation of letting go of the pain forever, but he could not. He was bound, shackled by his own fear and despair. He felt the darkness seeping into him, the despair and anguish turning into a cold, sickening sensation that seemed to be consuming him from the inside out.
The doctors acted as if nothing was wrong, their condescending voices in stark contrast to his own suffering. He knew that they were getting some sort of sick pleasure out of watching him suffer, and his anger and hatred only grew.
He was filled with a deep sorrow, the weight of his loneliness and sorrow an unbearable burden. He felt so alone, so isolated, as if he was trapped in an inescapable bubble of pain and despair, and there seemed to be no way out.
The glass of water had provided a brief respite, but it had also served as a reminder of the emptiness that had become his life. No matter how much he drank, it did nothing to quench the thirst of his soul. No matter how much he wished, no matter how desperately he wanted it, he could not escape the demons. He was alone, and he was lost.