Good Ol' Catharsis by paradanmellow on DeviantArt (original) (raw)

He laughed like a fool. He laughed like stupid.
After death there is another life.
No one seemed to have observed – but the joke was on him now.
He had to purify. Water was not enough.
There could be two ways to do that.
He was currently into those steamy jungles that smell of moss and mushrooms.
It was truly interesting how it all appeared, both real and unsubstantial.
It had to be death's first step – giving up – the withdrawal.
It had to begin with feeling less alive.
He had exercised it long hours, long minutes of tension and wait. And now it had to be the final test.
Which was another secret.
All looked with squinted eyes at the practice, all said go away when heard about it.
Godhood is but another state of existence.
He wasn't aiming for it for he knew himself not his creator. What he could do instead…
He could blend in, become part of the parts.
So he began to walk.

His stupid laugh was a bit too much, he told himself. Didn't know for sure if it had attracted someone's attention or not.
If anyone learned about his present state, he'd loose the moment.
He had some clues about what that could mean, but he was too excited to think about it.
He felt like young again and ready not to think about what next.
The ground was as he knew it. It made him wonder if that wasn't some conformity with his memory of the past. Which was a bit disappointing.
He then understood he could have never enjoyed godhood. Walking around in your creation, knowing everything would have made him loose his mind and hate all; destroy all; create randomness…
Humans!
Humans are randomness!
He laughed again. Like a fool, like a child, like a wise man.
Humans are randomness!
It had to be truly a great god the one that could detach himself from his creation. What a bless!
There's the rain.
Beloved rain.
Was water and it didn't suffice.
He wondered for how long his happiness. For how long the silent moment in which he had no needs.
Mushrooms.
He saw them piled up like girls with umbrellas.
Umbrellas?
Aw, yea… a device used in the dessert; in hot areas with sun.
Knelt. Was afraid he had lost his senses.
No way.
He somehow felt the softness and glossy surface.
But only partially.
What other wonders was afterlife going to give? Had to give something in change – had to teach him something not taught to live creatures.
Was amazed to find it hard to imagine anything besides life.
If I can't put my mind beyond life I am here, still here and I won't know.
He dropped his head in his palms.
I hope it's not solitude the afterlife. I hope it's not me and my echo alone. I hope it's not me and my memory. I hope it's not me, as a matter of fact!
He sat down.
Damned flesh! Will I be wearing this forever?
If I am dressed in me, I am me.
Why do I care so much?
He stood. He looked up.
Had to find a ruin to climb. Those places allowed land view.
Land view.
I wish I could just fly there.
The next moment he was there.
It works! Before he could laugh anew, he saw it worked. It damn worked.
Laughed again. Like a fool his shadow, like fear.
Was seating down and the sky came right above him.
Those old woods were like he had always known them.
Anxiety.
He knew that if he focused on it he could beat it.
He could fight a giant.
Really?
Aw, don't tell me I can summon one at will!
Would you fight me, giant?
Would you wear me out?
Would you show me I am nothing but a sum of tiny cells?
Are the dead a sum of something?
He twisted his face.
If nothing happened soon he'd grow bored.
Saw felt then his vision blurred.
Wanted to scream:
Not yet!
So…
He sighed and lowered his head.
It was good to know he wasn't making the rules. Was it a curse to have to think of each detail?
Dared raise one brow and send out the question.
If given any answer it meant the god was a weak someone.
No one would bend over the skies to listen to such fugitive thoughts.
Was it not important even the smallest thought?
How much did it mean for the future, each breath? Each yearning and insufficiencies.
Each thing is great, he told himself.
Each thing you don't have is even greater.
If one would turn over himself and consider the things in possession would that one become bored then?
Boredom makes you do the wildest things.
Or maybe not; maybe it just makes you think the wildest things and be mean. Be mean and whisper your ideas into the right ears…
They'll do the rest trust me.
You can sit back and relax watching them do your bidding.
And they'll even come back four your counsel.
Knowing you have the power and you're not using it.
A woman's thought and delight.
I am both sexes then.
Both.
He laughed.
Anyone against?
As his head had contact with the rock under it, he felt happy again.
Useless to think of pleasures. Once you have one, you want another. Chain after chain.
I am becoming a cleric. Admitting to be doing doctrine was a normal thought. If you want something, you must avoid it.
I mean you must seek its opposite because it'll always be served to you along with the treasure.
I never lived.
He moistened his lips.
He never lived.
He felt immaterial again.
As he watched the clouds laugh back at him, he found the blessing of not thinking.
If you wanna think, don't.
There you have it your solution mister.
He sent his air out, all of it as much as possible.
My death will make me live.
Die man!
He contorted his gut to limit.
He sucked in his belly, he squeezed his fists.
What next.
You have to be strong.
Death by will is godhood.
Careful. Careful I said.
If you let go now it means you don't wanna do it. You don't know what you want. You're a nobody. You cant' even die.
He snuffed in his blood.
It appeared he had bitten his tongue.
How wrong is to be alive?
To be alive and well?
How wrong is to wait for something to happen?
He had heard an old man say crisis situations are the most creative ones. The "on the verge" things.
He could only tell how miserable it felt to be on the verge and on the dry rock under a dead man's sky.
There were two ways to purify. Feeling tired to describe them, it was enough to remind himself that.
Two ways.
Each gets you in the same place.
Then what matters? What you're doing till you get there?
Who is enjoying my insecurity?
To what gain this lack of information?
Was it for protection?
Had god reached the conclusion that it was the best and ideal way to be?
Are you envying me? Fool?
You failed! Your escape system has no flaw. Without flaws you're dead!
Anyway…
What am I kept away from?
Wasn't he seeing no man was really happy?
Revenge, then? Was that his reason to respawn?
Had to pass on suffering? Was it the last gift of creation?
Aw, it's all perfect! Look at them! They smile! They don't even laugh. Fucking bastards, all they do is smile!
Take this!...

He let the air come back to him.
He felt soft, he felt useless.
He curled in and came to terms with his baby self.
Mother, I am passing from one state to another. I am changing too fast to realize why, what's happening.
I wish you could take me back into your womb, and back into my father's seed. Punish him for having loved you. Punish me for having done the same.
Blank.
Dot, dot, dot.
The sound is not really essential when you are a child.
Someone's waiting for you to wake up. You enjoy being kept safe, and you see all red.
Oh, yes, you see all red, that's nice.
You have visions of someone talking to you, you sometimes see blue.
You sometimes scratch your ankle.
You are so casual. One way or another what's the worst can wait…
You can be a man, later on.