Wrecking ball

by Jolyn Low

I don’t mean a wrecking ball like miley’s I mean a ball (imagine a great gilded hall type of ball) where one is emotionally wrecked – be it through epic humiliation or disappointment. Let’s think of it as a metaphor. It’s akin to moments whereby you fall headfirst down the tall stairs with everyone’s eyes on you. After landing unceremoniously in a ruffled heap, people start jeering and you feel so bewildered and embarrassed that you want to die. Instead of someone helping you up, the guy you’ve wanted to marry since you were 3 is snuggling up to this gorgeous creature with the boobs that you lack. Your heart dies. Your confidence is shattered. And you just want to die.

This is how I feel tonight. And have felt for the past two nights ever since that day. I’m a wreck. And I don’t know how to piece myself back together again. I’ve made so many bad decisions in the past few months that its hilarious, the state that its left me in.

Perhaps the worst thing is how much the self doubt is creeping in. It’s like a mist, fingers dancing around my throat, slowly getting tighter. It’s so hard to breathe. It’s so hard to live one week at a time, one day at a time, where there is absolutely no meaning because my life has none of it.

When I was walking towards the bus stop tonight after another long shift at work (whereby I fucked up big time again), this man was screaming at the other side of the canal. He was hysterical, having a melt down and literally shouting this sorrows out into the dark night. The people with him couldn’t stop it. They can’t. Because he’s had enough of whatever shit he’s been going through and that’s his breaking point. I was half way tempted to join him and scream my sorrows out as well. It did pop up that it changes nothing, and that life is forever unfair. To him, to me, and to everyone out there.

A lady was sobbing whilst looking out at the canal in the inky night. A picture of tragedy and sorrow, of loss and grief. I was empathetic, having lost as she had before. At that moment, I felt so insignificant and small yet again. It’s a vast world out there. I’m not yet even a speck in the galaxy.

It’s like a car crash occurring in slow motion. I see the terrible end, but I feel no pain for now. Because rejection is numbing me raw, hacking away slowly until I’m no longer alive.

If this is depression, then hello, old friend.

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