1. Surfacing.

Each day mirrored the last for me. Or at least it was getting that way. The mortally of the situations set in. My life was destroyed by some calculated measure, myself systematically decimating my tower of sanity floor by floor. Though for the most part it was mainly unavoidable. It would have happened anyway, Something would have taken my wisdom from me, I just wanted to jump before it was pushed. Refusing to have the legs of the world kicked out from under me. That was me. Stubborn to the core. That’s one of the first things you should know about me. I lost most of what I acquired; this mirrored my emotions. But losing my sanity on the other hand was not part of the deal. Even if misplacing the three fundamental objects of my desire were not enough to atone for my sins, I was beginning to wonder if slipping whoever it was who now controlled my free failing fate my sanity, would that repay it in full? Whatever debt I ran up in a previous existence is what I’m referring to, as I kept drawing a blank to what evil crime I have committed in this life. Iniquitous. That’s what sprang to mind. It was an injustice that wasn’t warranted. Completely uncalled for. The unknown ransom I was not seeing, therefore I couldn’t hope to help myself. As it were, if I could only unveil what needed to be sacrificed upon the alter of escapism In order to flee! I would have surrendered anything. I knew that. It was a negligible expense to me, forgoing anything and everything. As acquitting the purgatory which now claimed the title of “My life” was the Holy Grail. The priceless treasure to behold. But. Whoever or whatever it was that I was conferring with, praying for some divine intervention to unshackle me clearly said no. Remaining a strong and silent symbol of alleged hope denying me simple guidance. Could I blame it though? Praying to a higher power for assistance had never been my foray. This left me with bits and pieces of memories of times past. With no clue on how to move forward, to progress, or even carry on. These memories tainted day-to-day objects like a shadow, a grim reminder anchoring me to negative thoughts that kept relentasly attacking me. On the other hand I could suffer the loss of most things without opposing effects on my concisions; but knowing I had a helping hand in the demise of my being had been my own downfall. Alas making it excruciatingly painful to bear.

In spite of this, the silver-lining of the whole squalid affair was knowing I wouldn’t make this mistake twice.

Having flushed the memories of the dreaded subject from me, as it was time which was the illusive price I had to shell out. The magnitude of the folly was set and bound into two years before me. Two years of my life gone. On a rescue party inside my body and mind attempting to retrieve what little there was of me left. Two years healing my emotional scars. I always have been a slow healer, but once healed there is no reopening the wound. I started there. Amongst the destruction and the anguish, glancing around the corporal shell of my borrowed dwelling. My old room. Having evicted myself prior from my apartment. My parents bared the cost of this as they point blank refused to allow me to let it go. “You’re keeping it and that’s that!” Had erupted from my mother one breakfast when I attempted to broach the subject. Her outlandish voice bellowing from her when I every time I mentioned selling. The prospect of me selling and moving ‘permanently back in’ was a thought she damned to the seventh cercal of Hades. Even with the idea of me still owning my own place made our arrangement a temporary one at best. I wasn’t going to stay forever... I knew that. But I couldn’t face the onslaught of memories that lingered there. Why play with the loaded gun of depression? A change is as good as a rest. That’s what triggered my impromptu migration home. It must have instinct which drove me, some subconscious notion of setting right the calamity which was my life. I started to replace what the past tense had discredited. Replacing my worldly possessions had been a good place to start. Sluggishly moving on to my personal preferences and standards had been a lengthy and long winded affair. Months of time stolen was spent redefining my persona, shedding the pounds of contentment replacing it with raw mussel. That had been the easy part. Transforming my mystified mind however took the biggest stake of the rebuilding period. An eternity to be reunited with myself. It was before the beginning after the end when I awoke. My eyes franticly searching for the sound of tapping that irritated me like a dentist’s drill. For the first time in a long time it was not my clock that awoke me... No it the persistent racket which did wake me, on this occasion belonged to my soft toy Woolly- Somehow managing to weed its way from his usual resting place at the foot of my bed.