24

I didn’t know what to do. What could I? There was nothing left to do.  

A man long ago had once told me a thing I did not then understand, it rang in my ears.   “Humans-always looking at the ground beneath your feet, no matter how high up you’re standing.”

He laughed at me then, but I understood now.                                   I thought I had felt abandoned and sentenced to hopeless before- but I now realized that I had never been low, not this low.             

I could remember no one, and nothing but the pain of my tormented regrets and failure.

Oftentimes life had been so dark for so long that it seemed easier to dig the hole deeper- to my grave- than to any longer tire myself with trying to climb out by the crumbling dirt walls around me. The more I climbed- the more I tried to help myself- the faster the sides of the pit disintegrated and grew. Was this place a final resting place beneath that dirt? There was no rest here, only torment and terror. I could feel the presence of no other soul in the knowledge of this place. 
I rose to my feet and began to walk numbly through the darkness. I didn’t know if I would be able to feel anything but the heaviness on my skin, but there was absolutely nothing else I could do but continue to wander aimlessly. I reached my hands out in blind apprehension. I kept walking, tripping, falling of an unnaturally absent sense of equilibrium. I resorted to crawling along the black space until I was rendered motionless again by the innate despair of the seemingly sadistic circumstances, as though they had been specifically designed as such, for me in particular. I knew there had to be more than this place- or at least there used to be- but I could not remember anything of any other world but pain.

 For an imperceivably tiresome time, I interchanged between stumbling through the choking abyss, and again lying on the ground in hazed confusion. I frustratedly dug my hands down into what felt like soot beneath my back. I coughed as it flew up into a cloud around me, clinging to my lungs, and remained floating around me as though it would never settle again. I could not draw air without further soot filling my chest with each betraying gasp. I again endured the burning asphyxiation, trying to then hold my breathe; but the dust had filled my lungs and there was no returning from each breath only delivering me down further into the Sepulcher of my own anguish.

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