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26 Februari 2021 17:19

To Be or Not to Be Alive: The Lost Agony

Konten ini diproduksi oleh Judith Aura Tiara
Counting the days as they mercilessly abandon me one by one. One day, two days, three and so forth.
To Be or Not to Be Alive: The Lost Agony (299268)
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Where is the pain, I wonder? What did I forget? Photo: Kristina Tripkovic/Unsplash.
If someone were to remind me that several days ago, I was panting like a madman; begging desperately for some psychological painkillers; gasping for breath as if the oxygen had bid their goodbyes eternally; struggling for some light in the consuming darkness, then I'd laugh it off and say, "You're mental."
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I think I am the one who's mental here.
I usually keep all my series of breakdowns and pain in a small book. That book holds more pain in this goddamned world of mine than all the pain people could ever think of. That way, I am able to access the memory of what I felt and what I dreaded at the time of the occurrence.
Funny how brain works, somehow. It could dim, even diminish the most painful pain you've possibly ever felt in your life, in only a matter of seconds. Or, days, in my case.
Yet, the thought of me being in excruciating pain feels like a fever dream—like it never happened in the first place. Like I'd never known how the wounds felt like, despite it being an open wound; figuratively bleeding. The despair was supposedly unbearable.
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I was left completely clueless, oblivious, but at the same time, miserable.
Uh ...
You see, I could only get the remnants of me crying, and, well ... that's it. Only crying, lots of tears—as if it was a lake and I was stranded in the middle of it—and my ugly swollen red eyes staring back at my inflated cheeks. But, no pain.
I don't remember any pain.
That is why I keep doubting both myself and my altered memories. I keep questioning, up to this day, "Was that real? Was I imagining things? Wait—was I faking it?"
Series of doubts will play inside my head like a television drama. And then, out of the blue, I will sulk in the corner. But then, I'll feel better in no time again. Yes, no pain is present, again.
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If you couldn't understand me, worry not, because I do, too. I keep wondering and wandering, again, trying to find the agonizing pain that supposedly stroke me several days ago. Where is it? Where did I bury it? How did that happen? What could potentially hurt me that bad to the extent that I just want to give up all my breath?
I am panting, once again. Racking the shelves which are billions in number, kept quietly inside this storeroom which I call my mind, desperately struggling to find a little piece of evidence of me being in agony, other than the ones stored in that small goddamned book of mine. Praying hopelessly, that at least, I am able to find out one tiny little proof:
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Am I sane?
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Where should I find the pain, once more?

Why was I perilously wish for it to be gone before—yet, now, I am dreadfully longing for it?

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"Oh, to be, or not to be alive," I murmur, finding myself holding a two-headed coin, once again.