I always have this funny mental image whenever someone says that life is a bunch of ups and downs; I imagine that life is a trampoline, a blue trampoline with a gray metal edge, and rather than being made of cloth it’s made of some rubbery, extremely flexible material and while we’re alive we’re constantly jumping. Which despite being a very childish mental image, accomplishes two things:
- there's no rest, you're always on the move. even if you just lie down there you're still moving.
- life is a bunch of ups and downs.
and while up and down resemble directions in physics, in my story, they resemble happiness and sadness. Thing is, I visualise rock-bottom as this humongous set of blades underneath the trampoline. so, you’re jumping and then all of a sudden something hits you, hits you so hard that you can’t avoid having your feet cut by the blade. You touch rock-bottom. you cannot wait to get out of there, it wasn’t that much of a hit anyway. But God you’re glad you’re out of there, it was cold, harsh and painful.
life goes on, jumping up and down and up and down and up and down, until you’re hit again, but this time it’s hard, so incredibly hard that you have to suffer the consequences of gravity, so incredibly hard that the pain from the blade puncturing through your feet feels somehow less painful than your first impact, it’s starting to feel a bit comfortable. but then life goes on again, jumping up and down and up and down, until something hits you, no, it slaps you, it slaps the hell out of you that you feel as heavy as a mountain falling down, no, no, not falling, you’re being sucked in by a black hole and you’re forced to suffer the extra gravity and congrats you’ve won yourself a luxurious stay at rock-bottom, now the comfort from the blades is starting to make sense, now you understand what Johnny Cash meant by saying "the old familiar sting" when he was talking about self harm. It takes a couple of more hits to cause a big tear in your trampoline. You’re entirely exposed and vulnerable and the slightest hit will cause you massive pain and by slightest hit I mean that you could be fixing breakfast one day and you wouldn’t find your favorite tea so you’d breakdown and cry. you’re exposed, you’re vulnerable. and your poor helpless self has to keep going and endure the pain thinking it’ll be over soon. Little did you know that the tear will only get wider and more dramatic, until your only chance of not being hurt is landing on the grey metal edge of the trampoline, and despite that being your only chance of not being hurt you don’t really like it because being metal and cold it’s like salt to your freshly wounded feet, joy has became tasteless. You’re so used to it now that rock-bottom feels like home. I guess that’s the science of toxic relationships, familiarity. like that relationship between me and the blade. I got too comfortable, too comfortable that it sometime made me deliberately take sadness too far just to win a longer stay at the familiar pain rather than the unknown heights. But that’s not what’s heartbreaking about this story. What’s heartbreaking about this story, is the neighbouring trampolines; my mother’s trampoline, my father’s, bestfriend’s trampoline and my lover’s trampoline. My mom’s heart is in pieces everytime she sees me in pain which as you concluded is all the fucking time. My bestfriend is suffering the same and it’s nice to have someone who understands but God I wish she didn’t. I wish she weren’t suffering the same because it’s nice to have someone who understands but it’s not nice to see someone you love suffer. On the bright side, my dad is always there offering help and offering bandaids. My lover is just standing there with an empty stare, drowning in the helplessness of his sea blue eyes.
I’m sorry mom, I let the tear get bigger than your sewing skills can fix. I’m sorry dad, but you cannot heal stab wounds with bandaids. I’m sorry love, I just couldn’t love you; the pain was too distracting. and I can’t fall in love with a blade and a sea at the same time because my feet were freshly wounded all the time and I just couldn’t handle the salty water. I’m sorry self I was never able to save you but the tear kept getting bigger and I didn’t know what to do and most of all, I’m sorry God, I couldn’t look up long enough to find you.