after the torture

I am bloodless. the battle has robbed me of every pigment of life. My scars won't heal anymore. I've suffered from the worst physical torture ever invented by man. The saddest part of it was, i consented the torture. It can actually be synonymous to self-inflicted pain. But what makes the difference was that the decision to undergo the pains and sufferings of the torture was, that my decision did not at all encompass and considered the extent of the process itself. There was fear, but more than the fear, there was a desire and the desire clouded everything else that might get in the way of fully submitting to the experience. It was a choice I did not choose. it was a personal decision made without my consent. Decisions and consent differs in the factors that were looked upon when they are made. I'm totally confused what was it that I did, but I am certain I did not consented it. 

So  I began to emerge in the process, like a detainee in a death camp, I began to observe the routine. At some point I would record the events, write down everything I saw in full colors, description. I also talked to a lot of the people there. Like a journalist passionate about a beat and wanting to write immediately, i interviewed people. Most of the time I did not get anything substantial, like people's reflections and opinions. What I received were uneasy smiles, teardrops, sobbing, aimless looks on space. Those meaningless and meaningful expressions, of grief, of pain, of insult, of inhumanity, of humiliation. 

During the nights in the quarters, where a candle is placed in the middle of the room, i would sob. I can hear both of my selves weep at the tortures I am yet to experience. Of the tortures I can see in the eyes of the individuals whom I was able to talk to. Those nights were the nights I often thought of escaping. The picture was clear to me. I cannot bear the weight that a lot of people around me then were experiencing. I cannot imagine how my skins will be taken of my body and my eyes pierced with surgery implements. I cannot bear the thought of undergoing the state of being I once thought a sort of fulfillment.

And escape I did. at least on the level of thoughts. I began to escape from the fortress of doom. I climbed the walls that clams me up inside the chamber. It was harder than i thought. it was torture in itself. My feet are numb, both at the thought of being caught and escaping. But I went on, further, out, nowhere. I'm not even sure if I'm still inside or outside of something i thought to be guarded. it was bright, the sun aimed its hot knives on me as i walked past people, and places and things. But I was nowhere... I was walking somewhere, i know i was, the dust and the sand touches my bare feet but my soul was still kept somewhere deep down. it was buried, with all the life in it.

Another step further and I was at the same spot in the chamber i was when I escaped. everything feels the same. The warmth and coldness of the room. the painful and agonizing moans of people from everywhere, the restlessness of the eyes gazing at the candle in the middle of the room. everything was back to where ti all should not end. And i have no control of it. The next morning, I found myself in the face of the inescapable. It was my time and also not yet mine. For I chose to not exist in the reality of it. I am in another dimension now. I can feel on pain at all, yet I still am tortured. Escape was not the word, for every time I try to, another form of torture will come, maybe it was more of a choice. To feel or not to, to see or to be blind, to let go or to hold on, to feel or to be numb. And i chose to experience both ends of it, both sides of the coin, without the certainty of doing so. At the moment I am lost and found as well. Either way, it does not make much difference. 

lightheadedness

Sleep has not been my friend lately. Every manifestation of sleep is within my reach. Within the length of my limbs. Yet it aches to see my desperation to do so. it aches to realize how the possibility of dreaming would mean being lost and eventually dying in the midst of the happiest of dreams. 

So it is better to become lightheaded yet sober. To let worthless thoughts enter and come out of my mind than to stagnate at the thought of sleepfulness. The experience of going beyond the realm of the tangible. It is better to hold on to material thing because permanence and physical forms are always quantifiable and its loss would mean nothing but a physical deterioration. 

Loneliness is lonelier when the intangible, the presence that's made up, the thought that's imagined are the things lost. In sleeping, what happens is the deletion of the aches and pains of the day, the recovery of the energy lost, but also, the moving of the physical to the memory-al, the intangible musing that past has gotten hold onto. I admire the insomniac, for even if the same process of material-to-memory transfer of experience happens to them, their experience goes beyond the mere process. Their experience is fuller for they are able to balance the pain that is physical with the pain that is imagined or pretty much though of in the process of making things permanent still. Insomniacs need to make sure that amidst their lightheadedness and restlessness, their experience are made up of a dialectics between the physical manifestation of emotion and the concept of it engraved in their minds.

I like sleeping, dreaming even. I like rest and comfort, but i also like lightheadedness, because it makes me realize how much of the physical can I tolerate, how much of the emotional can I contain and how much of both can I balance. Lightheadedness makes me experience a different form of humanity, a transcendental form. A form that allows me to live in a dreamy state of consciousness yet experience the blurry face of reality at the very same moment they are occurring. 

the fearful thought of leaving and starting over

Adaptation. It's the revolutionary thought of Charles Darwin that changed a lot of established perspectives on human progression. It went against the dogmas of the church and the creationist ideology. It created the great divide amongst the people as to what is the truth behind their existence. It questioned the infallible and almost imposed pronouncements of the church that God created everything that belongs to nature. But it also made way for people to create compromises. That maybe both phenomenon (creation and evolution) were part of a two-pronged process of human progression. That in the beginning there was creation and in the process was the evolution, the process by which organism tried to adapt to the changing and almost always harsh to harsher environment that these organism are in. These were the occurrences that change bring us. Questioning, doubting, uncertainty and eventually reconstructing. Others choose to reestablish previous constructs, other choose to go beyond the limits and prove for themselves the rightness of the new proposition until finally, up until a detain extent they begin to doubt the revolutionary idea they thought of to be their very core principle. 

In change, two pronged-process of adaptation also happen. One is the meat of the evolution process, the adaptation process that organisms engaged in and two the adaptation process in the audience of the ideas, the adaptation that happens when people start to be irritated at how possibly worldviews destroy each other and eventually confuses more and more generation. Even up to now, the disjunct is still the very subject f man's doubts, and long years from now, I doubt if they can ever find a consensus, not just settle to futile attempts of compromise which not only destroy the essence of both, it also destroys that value of absolutes, the universals that a lot of institutions base their existence.

What's with all these that even in the simplest forms of change, the complex process of adaptation has to appear? even more imposing than expected, than attempted?

What's with leaving things behind and moving forward that feet are left weak and unable to pursue?

What's with change that make everything else appear to have been just old things, unworthy of attention?

Or do memory even serves its purpose of making us believe that we experienced a time we call past?

Its annoying at times. No, its pathetic most of the time when people have to leave because of a belief that they have to grow. Trees need not the concept of distance, the horizontal distance to grow. They only need a spot to stay in and every season they experience in the same spot contribute to the process of its growth, either retrogressive or progressive growth. 

Human mobility sometimes cause people to think that unless we practice the bipedality of life, we do not fully experience progress. the left and right swings of the feet of possibilities lets us believe that to be stuck in a spot is to be stagnant. But I cannot see the green in every people that trees have. I cannot see the vitality of its limbs in every person who travelled the world and experienced the fulness of life. Sometimes I think that to be stuck is to let the world pass me by but I also think that being stuck is to experience a stable growth, not a terminal type of growth, not the unsustained growth. 

I think that for most cases, the idea of mobility skew the people's idea of possibility. That possibility can only be experienced fully when distance and time are dually-experienced. The absence of one will make things all to dull, dragging, boring. But at the need of the day, stability is experienced when the spot that people search in their journeys is finally found and no amount of oversaturation and boringness will make you leave that spot. The spot that people call grave.