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The stars are nonpareil. Each and every one tells tales of brilliance and of tenebrosity, and the righteous stars somehow maintain sanity and to some extent follow the idealism of egalitarianism. From one part of the world, the sky is majestic and harmonious but from another part of the world, the sky is so bleak and quiet. I am left in awe by things which are unknown to me and things that I am unknown to. I don’t try to fully understand the omnipresence of the stars constantly looking down at me from all directions. They illuminate my darkness and insecurities and flaws and scars but it is only because they too are too bright, too dim, too big, too small, too far, too close and they too fade away into the void and are forgotten. We all have a firm set of stars that look over us whether we like it or not. When I look right above the surface of the water, it reflects the stars as blurred lights; sanctimonious yet truthfully insignificant, even demented. But most of us continuously tend to focus too closely on the lights, which make us go insane at times. The lights are created and destroyed by emotions; emotions are destroyed and created by the lights. It’s obscure how constellations, the formation of stars or how the reflections of the stars on the water can make me smile, cry, crestfallen, even skeptic of life... existence. I live in the city, because the stars are present but not dark enough to bother me. But it’s those cloudless days that bother and hurt me the most and make my body tremble without my mind’s control...
The more I stare and the more I focus, the lunacy of the water escalates. I am sitting on a bank. I glare at the water and I think that I am focused— but perhaps focused on the wrong things— by the time I realise, the tide has risen and I am drowning in a state of erratic blindness. I look above and a supernovae is eaten up by the universe within seconds. The dazzling raindrops blended with teardrops remind me of the immutable autonomy I carved deep into my skin. Then, the raindrops walk away onto concrete roads and roofs, and quivers the water, above my glorious corpse, before uniting with the water.
When my mind settled, I was sitting on the sharp edge of a cliff, meanwhile the stars, the city lights, the rain, the nature all sing in unison. And I notice a daffodil sitting next to me. The wind drives the daffodil closer to me and it kisses my hand affectionately— suddenly sharp teeth rise out of the elegant white daffodil and it violently bites me. From the unexpected pain I fall from the cliff. As the sharp cliff lacerates my skin, the daffodil wishes me Godspeed. I splash gently into the water. I am naked and alone.
This bewilderment escalates to a intolerable pitch; and as time passes the bemusing, astral sound blends into my cochlear as familiar— even beautiful. I’m floating right under the surface of this dark, deep sea. I can still reach out my hand to feel the wind. Through the gap of my fingers, I see the deranged daffodil on the edge of the cliff cackling at me. But I feel nothing, nothing at all. I have tried too hard to reach for the sky and simultaneously reach for the sky under the sea.
As seconds turn into minutes and minutes turn into hours, I start to sink in adagio, I sink looking at the stars and the stars looking down at me. I am eternally stuck in this dark cave of water, it colonises my vision leading me to experience blurred hallucinations and I feebly hear the ocean bed croon a cacophonous lullaby. The dissonance irritates me and makes me cry— but my teardrops are so irrelevant in the Grand sea. The bubbles produced from my glum scream erodes away a small, wonderless hole in the cave. Through the hole, a cyanic ray shines through, burning my skin. I deserve this bearable pain; it is almost pleasurable.
As this puzzling pain becomes a part of me, I start to see the hazy scenery and nature up on the cliff smouldering to ash. The dismal smoke suffocates the impermeable sky. Everything is a despondent grey— except for that well-liked, friendless daffodil that everyone desires to reach. The grey water crept into me without consent and the flavour of salt invaded my mouth. It attempted to purify my vile body. My sinned soul asked for transient forgiveness. I closed my eyes. Divine water exacerbated my demonic wounds. I was ready for demise. Sometimes, you have to say goodbye.
The sand tickled the back of my body. I was no longer breathing or drowning. This place was perfectly discomforting— a utopia for the departed, the emotionless, the ignominious. Sometimes, you have to say goodbye. I demanded perpetual youth.
I was completely alone, nothing bothered me, none of this chaos bothered me. It was just me and my scars at the end, where most would see as a negative but to me my scars were just memories that I thought were worth the pain.
There are personal places that should be closed forever and in these places you say goodbye.
At midnight, I said goodbye. At midnight, you said goodbye. I was alone that night. One world had died.
I had to accept that but more so I had to comprehend that. The reign of utter blackness had begun to end...
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