2 am – denounced even by the unhinged minds.
The voices in the head grew colder and crueler. Who are you?
“Fragmented, befallen, burden,” they chanted together.
“Ignore them for they feed on your fears and indecisiveness,” a voice of hope.
One more day. A new sun will rise tomorrow.
A new sun rose washing away the darkness of the previous night but it was no different. They were smirking. A new day is for those who believe, not for those who have their eyes shut.
Resigned, full of morbidity, she waited for time to loop back on itself.
It happened again. 2 am. Screaming voices commanding to end the suffering.
You do not exist
“I am louder than you,” The dominant voice
“I am louder than you as well,” Another voice
“Don’t listen to them,” The timid whispered.
Why can’t I hear myself?
“You do not exist anymore, ” all decorously joined in taunting her.
Between the many 2 ams resided the empty darkness, a sense of loathing, consuming guilt, a lot of passing time. She always found ways of filling those in-betweeners with ‘important’ things to get by life on a daily basis. People had told her that she was doing really good. Instead of feeling the pride, she felt nauseated.
The 2 ams kept on merging into new 2 ams and her grip on reality weakened. She could never break away from her past. Her ‘successful’ attempts to break it all were exaggerated, of course, perpetuated by herself. She believed, if you believe, you could make it happen. A naive interpretation devoid of history. Alas! it came back or one could say it was always there, she just believed and she just stopped believing now.
“Are you going to dwell from 2 am to 2 am?” They asked.
“Help me!” She wrote this down one too many times.
“Leave gracefully, do not beg for help,” They told her.
There is no greater nerve-racking feeling than knowing that you are a prisoner of time.
We know what you want. You know what you want.
Ask the sea god, a merciful god who could break the spell and free you from your prison. The prison where a day is a hundred years long. The sea god never questions. She was an unbeliever but her belief in her suffering was much greater than her unbelief in supreme power. The thought of justice by the hands of god had given her the strength to take on a very long and arduous journey in search of the sea god.
The vultures must have hovered, they smelled death too. She had found the sea god. Mighty and magnificent. Her temples ached for she knew what was ahead but the promise of breaking from the prison of time had a melodious velvety texture warming her entire being. She prayed the prayer she remembered from a very long time ago.
Are you ready?
I am ready, claim me!
Nothing. The light leaving, colder and colder. No regrets. No fears. It was over.
He pulled her out. He snatched her right from the hands of the sea god. She was baffled and angry, was the god not powerful enough? Was the human mightier? Death danced around but she cheated it once more.
2 am – she is still a prisoner of time. No gods. No hope. Just the sound of her breathing and the dejected voices. She is alive. Fragmented.