Bones about to rip through the subcutaneous layer, I mustered every ounce of energy to gather water into the two plastic containers that were to be brought back saddling my donkey. It was a routine, I had been doing this after fleeing our war-torn home state.

My father passed away in an airstrike back at our home state, I was left the only man- a 10-year-old, to ensure the survival of my mother, two of my sister where one of them was still an infant. Tormenting, struggling, reminiscing the distant past when our lives were just, normal.

I told myself to stop crying when I was getting the water supplies for my family, but it was difficult to hold back those tortured tears. A drop slithered down my cheeks, and no more, no more, telling myself as I hurried to get those hefty crates of water back to the donkey.

Having saddled unto it, I urged it to move. Bumpy through the undulated pathway back to our safety point. Barren land was lavished around me, nothingness and sand were my only companions.

Why am I still going on? The distinct, demeaning voice was back to hunt me down. It wanted me to succumb to the adversaries of life, to fall out of the downs of the curve. Is there any reason to keep going on? It was an idiotic, unnecessary question, yet my mind was hindered by its presence, enticed to severe the thinning silver cord binding my conscience together that gave me a purpose to even take in the next breath.

A breeze kissed my face- coarse, rough and dreadful. The voice was growing inside me, overwhelming me slowly, but surely. What are you going to do next? Do you think you can get out of this easily? You have lost a father, do you think you have the slightest hope of ensuring the survival of your family and yourself after the war has ended? 

Those questions lingered even longer inside my mind, I was about to snap into insanity, just give me a little push, and I would go insane. The journey felt endless, I was somewhat lost in my senses, my system failed to identify, to continue on the journey, letting my physical self on auto-pilot.

What’s the point? “ARGHHHHH!!!” It makes no sense to go on! 

I shouted relentlessly, shrilled at the top of my lungs, chasing the inner devil out of my system. Gradually, losing myself, slamming my fists unto the charred ground, lacerating my forehead by banging it against a rock buried in the hot sand. Straightened out my body into the sky, out-stretching my head to relish the last bit of sunlight, my blood, a taste of my demise.

Just die. Why keep on resisting? What for?

“RAWWRRR!!!” Clenching my fists, gritting my teeth, a wrenching longing for a release from the bane of life. The unbearable pain, lost were getting over my head, I could not stand them any longer. At this rate, I would die standing.

The mental pressure applied on me was immense, intense, turning into diabolical. An unimaginable power yanked me back into place, to endure the cycle of life, unwillingly. You can’t die yet. 

I picked up my donkey, unsettled, forced it back unto its track, my pathway back home where the quiet, temporal solace was.

Craving for more? Down below:
Logarithmic
How to Manage Time? (By Someone Who Is Always Late)
Intention
The Insignificance of Significance
Brief
Decisions. Dilemma.
Died.

 

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