Emotional Bankruptcy
I’ve been away. That happens when you have mental illness. Actually, I prefer disorder. Then it sounds like it can be mended.
While away, I’ve been showering in a stream of emotions. Predominantly toxic. Prepared with devotion by other people. So persistent in killing me. The very light in me. However, I don’t see myself as a victim. That would be the end of me. I rather see myself as an investor who places his bids in good people, with good emotions hoping for ROI (return on investment). But it just doesn’t work that way. Never has.
Things are being dire lately. People take and not give. They expect and don’t return. They forgot how to share. That would be emotional socialism and we won’t have that.
So I’ve spent all emotions I had. Until it made me sick. The void inside me engulfed me and the whole hell broke loose. I lost my tears in the corridors of memories that made me who I am. The unthinkable matter of other people spirits trapped inside my illness like an everlasting nuclear blast that cannot find a crack to explode through.
And I just broke. Fell on my knees. My head down looking at the last spark coming from my eye extinguished in bitterness other people call reality.
It hurts. It burns. It devours me. And I , the emotional criple. Pathetic leftover of what use to be human. I went into emotional bankruptcy. I can no longer pay my dues.
So I’ve made a list.
Of what can help me. It is simple. No magic ingredients. Yet, so hard to find. Lost forever in those intimate shops of human emotions before emotional malls on steroids took over.
Here’s my list.
- A kind word of a caring soul
- A lovely face with a sincere smile
- An embrace
- A hand in a hand
- A gentle whisper
- A phone call of a long lost friend
- Memories of a high school sweetheart
- My reflection in a kid’s eye
- A handwritten letter
- Knowing that someone prays for me
I can no longer pay my emotional dues, but my soul is not for sale. Because it is a gift. Somehow I know I’ll be ok.
