Ihre Browserversion ist veraltet. Wir empfehlen, Ihren Browser auf die neueste Version zu aktualisieren.

Inner Peace

Posted 18/5/2015

Inner Peace


He still has trouble breathing. Every single breath feels like his lungs are going to explode. His legs almost don’t carry him anymore. But he’s content, actually enjoying it. With every hard to catch breath this sensation engulfs him until he finally feels - what? Happy, free, independent? He can’t even define this feeling, just that he craves it, craves it more than anything else in his life. But he doesn’t want to cause permanent damage, so he stopped running and went home, preventing to fall eventually.

Easier breathing is joined by regret. He didn’t want to stop, yet he had to. Maybe there’s another way to feel this bliss again? Yes, that’s the right term: bliss. A time when nothing seems important anymore in a faraway mental place where no one can harm him. Others might call this some kind of inner paradise but he’s pleased to finally have found the appropriate expression. Bliss…that sounds so cheerful…

When he looks in the mirror, he tries to avoid eye contact with himself. Is he afraid of what he might see there? Probably, but mostly because he won’t see anything new, nothing’s changed. It’s still the same old everyday pattern that he tries to escape from time to time. He looks at his arms instead: his muscular biceps and his strong forearms. This is when sadness and anticipation nearly overwhelm him at the same instant. The once dark red lines have faded, so they almost aren’t perceptible anymore. He’s sorry his companions on his way to inner peace are leaving him but on the other hand, he’s looking forward for new ones. Of course, no one’s entitled to ever see them, they are his own little secret which he shares with nobody else. He doubts that anybody will understand how much he needs to feel that way. It’s his addiction, his drug to stay alive. He never wanted to die, suicide is far from being on his mind. On the contrary, he wants to feel, to live through every emotion he is capable of. And only his place of perfect bliss can help him with that. His breathing has returned to normal, yet his pulse is racing with joy. He has to visit this place again, it is his primal need, his only desire. He strides towards the kitchen, excitedly looking for his favourite knife.