The Path of My Life
Life. It has its ups and downs. Sometimes, when it falls you will feel like life is a senseless path. A path which you do not know how to follow. When you look down your path, what do you see? Patches of beautiful flowers filled with light, or burnt debris within darkness? When you listen, do you hear an enchanted melody, or a sorrowful cry? When you try to reach for something mysterious and wonderful, along your path, does it fades away from you or is it so close that it is within your grasp? Throughout your downfall, you see people surrounding you. What do you see in their emotional eyes? Disgust, sadness, pain, sympathy, understanding, confusion, ignorance, or maybe, even pity? Yet, ask yourself, what do you WANT them to see in you? Someone who has the ability to continue on because they are strong and mature, that they can reassure, their cherished ones, that they do not need them to worry about you? Or someone who is confused and lost, someone who needs someone by their side and to reassure THEM that everything is okay, that they are not alone any more and that a rainbow will appear after a rainstorm? And what about your accomplishments? Do you want them to see you, to acknowledge you and to know that you are there? And be proud to know and have someone like you? Alternatively, are you going to be modest and say what you have accomplished, what you believe, was something minor? That you are nothing but a nobody? Do you know who you are? Your own path, do you have a destination or do you just wonder along an unknown path and just allow it to lead you to your destination, maybe even your demise? And when you look at yourself in the mirror, what do you see? What do you WANT to see? Do you see insecurity in yourself, or do you see confidence? And, the person you are now, are you proud of whom you are or do you wish to be someone completely different in which, you believe, will be acknowledge more than who you are now? Finally, do you believe you are on the right path?
I was having lunch with a friend of mine. I was telling my problem to him. I told him I could not continue anymore. That I do not know how to live, or what my life purpose is anymore. He looked at me with a genuine smile upon his face. A smile which showed understanding and reassurance. He replied to me, with a small chuckle, that he wanted to tell me a story. He said it was a true story. About something which happened to him not so long ago. So I listened. I wanted to. My friend went by the name Hiiragizawa Eriol. And this was his story.
Darkness. It was all he sees. His nerves were tickling with fear. His muscles tensing unintentionally. His lungs shrunk. Then inflated fiercely. Then it shrunken again. The process never ending. The darkness was suffocating him. Choking him. Sweat dripped down his pale face as his eyes showed trepidation. Abruptly, a pair of hands grabbed his lungs and squeezed it. The overwhelming pain caused him to scream his lungs out. Strangely, he did not hear a sound. Not even a peep. He screamed again, but there was no trace of an existing sound. It was sickly silent for his liking. His heart felt hooked up, and his face turned grotesque as it unhurriedly twist, causing him to suffer a huge amount of agony. He felt wetness, upon his face, as cascading invisible tears made its way down his soft cheeks. Then, it was his flawless skin. Black, piercing claws sunk into his white skin and ripped in. Unfortunately, not in one rapid go. His head felt numb from the increasing pain, but not numb enough to feel his nails getting tore away from him. Unfortunately, that was not the only pain he felt. Limb by limb, it was cut off with a blunt rusty saw, creating unbearable pain for him to endure. He wanted to faint; he wanted the pain to stop. He wanted someone to SAVE him. Yet, he could not stop it. Heck! He could not even move any part of his body. It was as though something was blocking his brain messages to his nerves, but not the pain, from his nerves, sent to his brain as they signaled for mercy. Then, a pair of fork poked into his beautiful, sapphire eyes, and plucked it out. He could not take it any more. He screamed.
A young man, possibly in his early twenties, woke up with a scream. Sweat was pouring down his face and body. He was controllably shaking from head to foot while he took shallow breaths. His eyes were blank and his cheeks were no longer pale. If possible, it turned even paler.
'It's that dream again. Why does it keep on happening? Before, it was just occasionally. Now, I have that nightmare every single night. What does it mean?'