Our writer cousin told me once that when I write I should describe what I am feeling. For example, if I am happy, what does it tase like, what does it feel like? Basically, one needs to experience the emotion on all levels, then describe it.
Last night I experienced despair on such a level. I felt immersed, submerged in despair. Have you ever felt such despair? It feels as if I am sinking in quicksand; but instead of quicksand, it is heavy, dark, thick mud. It is getting all over me, getting stuck in clumps in my hair, in my pores. It takes a stronghold wherever it is on me, and slowly brings me down. Knowingly, I go down with it, hoping I will eventually find respite from this slow torture.
Despair tastes like gray dry ashes in my mouth. It sticks to my tongue, threatening to choke me as I try to swallow it. It is hard to swallow, hard to digest, hard to accept. But, at the same time, I know it is something that is going to be with me forever.
Despair is a painful silence. It deafens me with its overbearing volume. Slicing through me, more louder than a cheering crowd at a soccer game. The silence of despair permeates throughout the air around me. It overrides any other sound. If I am in a room full of people, I hear the silence instead of the chatter of people. It drowns out all other sounds.
This is my despair, this is my world.
