Maundering into the stiffened body, my consciousness was instantly rejecting going back into the reality. The pain, my back; the strain, my stress; the pressure, Damn it. I slumped back into my fetus posture, discomfort was hugging me as insomnia caught me off-guard.
I caught hold of myself, exhausted yet undefeated. Sleep, just sleep. Cajoling myself, pantomiming to them that I am the master of myself. Depression came, stress tagged along, bring sadness, dejection, despair, brokenness, and a long line of unwelcomed guest into the seats of my heart, mind and soul.
Resented but present, they come, they came, they had yet to conquer. I was pressed down, but I had not drown or died. The pain was prominent, yet pain told me that I was still alive. How long have you have to hold on? The inner self, relinquishing me bit by bit, selling me out chunk by chunk.
Just sleep. The pain of body said so. I was tempted.
Withholding was the gossamer thread of hope, it was always there. I kept it like my precious jewel, having a special place just for it. Hope shone resplendently, I was consumed by the tiny yet empowering force, shoving me back into shape instantaneously.
I stood up from my bed, I told myself. Get up. Get up. Get UP! Shooting myself out of bed, I realised that time was short, and my hopes were alive. Repossessing the will of fire, I dressed, I conquered, I reigned.
Remember kid, winning one battle doesn’t mean you have won the war. This is an on-going battle, you shall…
“Fuck you, for telling me how to live my life.”