Not an Oracle

It begins with a sensation.

Like a fist to the stomach, an ice cold bath, a paper cut. Sharp and fast.
I'm standing at the top of the stairs and the sensation arrives, swift and direct, and the blood surges through my veins like lava and yes, I am ready to erupt. I am standing at the top of the stairs and the overwhelming urge to throw myself down its short flight of twenty steps grips me. Yet, these steps are not cushioned with linoleum or carpet, these are hard, cold concrete slaps and I want my skull to greet each one with a sickening crack. I want my bones to twist and snap and bend and break. I want my spine to shatter like peanut brittle. I want to feel each moment as I break and lose my shape. I don't want to recognise the reflection.

I've been here before.

Standing on the curb edge, waiting for the three tonne lorry to pass. Imagining what it would feel like to marry my flesh to it's hot metal. Or walking by the river, I wonder what it would be like to try to swallow it whole. The bubbles escaping from the corners of my mouth as I submerge further. I let it all in. Sinking deeper into the abyss.

Yet, it is fleeting. As quick as the sensation takes hold, it releases me from its clasp. Offering me a moment to look inside the cacophony of madness. It's like looking inside a large shell. The softest whisper is transformed in to a vibrating pulse that can not be escaped. It rings in your ears and the claws slide in.

And then it's gone.

Like a hypnotist snapping his fingers, his volunteer is brought back from the trance. He may be slightly dazed, bewildered even; what did he just experience? He's not quite sure but he knows it was fraught with danger. There's a relief afterwards. Thank god that's over with. Whatever that sensation was, whatever it meant, it's done with. Except as the willing volunteer stands up from the hypnotist's chair, he realises that he was not so willing after all and he's signed a contract with that sensation now. As sure as the sun rises each morning, that sensation is set to return.

I will be frank.

- There are days when you don't wake up because you haven't slept all night.

- You've lost track of what day/month/year it is and all you can feel is a sense of dread as you try to systematically recall what day it was yesterday.

- You wonder if the thud in your chest is caused by your heart beating or your soul trying to escape.

- You find yourself going through the motions despite not knowing how you got from point A to point B because you were internally scolding yourself for not sleeping last night. This is then proceeded by you being mad at yourself for 'self-scolding' because you know it can't be helped.

- You successfully manage to make it out of the door and you wonder 'now what?' and 'is this it?' The best questions seem to consist of two or three words. Each word resembling an injection of antifreeze, a piano falling on your head, a second lost.

- You try to conclude whether you are 'wasting time' or 'losing time' and what the difference is between the two.

- You realise that these were some of the thoughts plaguing your bed the previous night so you try to distract yourself.

- You read a newspaper but each story takes you from one horror to the next and you scour the pages attempting to find something they call 'good news' but you're suddenly at the obituaries and it all seems crystal clear now.

Breaking out of the habit is the hardest thing you can do. Leaving the comfort and safety of what you already know is not an easy feat. But this is the only way to truly live; to drink up the new and open your arms to opportunities before they perish on the vine. Grow wise and be cautious but walk on that ledge and immerse yourself in the sights. The bright, bright lights and the biting breeze. The raw freedom that comes with taking a risk.

This is how life should be.

Shatter your preconceptions and never assume anything. Never take anything for granted and love like it will never last. Because it never will. Celebrate the small things and take time to look up at the stars and the sun and the moon because the answers come when we tilt our heads upwards. Connect your feet to the ground and walk wherever you can. Make that connection between your body and the land, like it was always meant to be. Be outside and live outside of yourself. The truth will come to you that way. Stretch away anything that holds you back and learn to let things go.

That is how it needs to be.

It seems that lately time has become my enemy. I can't seem to get a grasp on it. It's not like we were ever great friends or anything but I used to have a relatively good concept of how time passed. An hour would feel like an hour, a minute would feel like a minute but these days they don't seem to follow any sort of rules. They say time flies when you're having fun but what happens if you're not having fun and it's still hurtling by like the speed of light? I think that either someone has re-written the rules or this is some sort of universal joke.

Sleep has become a stranger but I am more accepting of my flaws. The weeks don't seem to last as long as they used to, it's almost as though Monday follows Monday. I am trying to reconnect with old friends but beginning to realise that I don't have as many as I used to. Maybe that's something that comes with getting older. The heat is stifling and I dream of snow drifts. Too much time is spent wondering 'what if' and not enough time spent being 'pro-active' - whatever that means. I blame the heat. Music and wine seem to provide my only solace. Let's hope I can rest these weary eyes.

The hardest part of all is claiming something of your own.

It is in the small hours when the walls close in and the wires in the brain ignite. The perpetual chatter that remained dormant during the day suddenly begins to crawl and scratch beneath the skull and the idea of sleep can only seem like a dream in itself.
The head hits the pillow and the eyes are squeezed shut but the volume of the ticking clock and the babbling of the brain begin to wage a war. It is 2 a.m. Forehead beaded with sweat, heart rages in the chest, it is too warm, it is too cold, the blanket bears heavy, the skin feels furious and screams are forcibly swallowed.
The days events are picked apart and probed in minute and defined detail. Conversations are replayed and the things you wished you had said are rehearsed. But of course, this only serves to make the heart pound faster and the bed grow more uncomfortable.
It is 3 a.m. legs twitch, the body switches position, it is too hot, it is too cold, blood surges through arteries and through veins, eyes are clamped shut, floodgates of thoughts wreak havoc as they snap across synapses. Memories, ideas, guilt, agendas, birthdays, schedules, things to remember, things to forget, important events, things to do before you die, things not to do before you die.
It is 4 a.m. and you admit defeat. It is too late to have anything that will resemble a 'good night's sleep'. The day starts in three hours and you have only just begun scrutinising the tragedies of your first year in high school in the attempt to pin-point exactly where it all went wrong. There is ringing in your ears from the ticking and the tocking of the clock and you have swore to yourself you will smash it to pieces with a hammer in the morning. If only you could... just... get... to... sleep...
It is 5 a.m. there is birdsong. That is the final call. The siren. The denouement. Daylight begins to flicker through the curtains and the exhaustion hangs heavy in your face and bones. You ask yourself 'what was the point?' and you continue the argument while the chirps breed from branch to branch.
It is 6 a.m. Sleep! Victory! It happened! Finally, the eyeballs have rolled back, the heart is now a gentle thud, the muscles un-wring... 7 a.m. The shrill shriek of the alarm rips you away from that peace. You shrug, 'I slept' you tell yourself.

Something is better than nothing.

I was having a conversation with a friend earlier this week and we ended up talking about time travel and alternate universes, which is pretty much bog-standard fodder for us to discuss. She asked me if I could go back in time and tell the younger version of myself one thing what would it be? My first inclination was to advise of either winning lottery numbers or to stop eating meat immediately or avoid getting into a relationship with a particular person. As I conjured up more and more answers, I began to realise that changing one specific thing might sound beneficial there and then but I would have no idea of what the consequences would be. Since I have known only this life, there is no way I could comprehend it being any different. After our conversation and my inability to come up with a solid answer, I began to ponder on it a little bit more. What one piece of information could serve useful to the younger version of myself?

I got caught in a web of specifics. Situations or circumstances that I could either avoid or make an alternative choice but all I was left with was a bucketful of 'what if's?' My focus was solely on changing one event and maybe that is what my friend had meant. Which one event would I change? But what if I was armed with one piece of information that could help not only myself but anyone who may look back on an event and wished for a different outcome. Then it struck me. The one thing that either hindered or caused me to make a bad choice or not act upon something.

Fear.

It is something we can all relate to. The cold grip that grabs by the arms, the constriction in your throat, an overwhelming sensation of turning to stone. Fear is the instinctual emotion that takes over in order to keep us from harm, however it runs deeper in some of us. Fear tells us to run from the axe-wielding maniac or the venomous spider the size of a small cat or alternatively it spurs us to fight against them. The rush of adrenaline persuades either 'fight or flight' and we have no choice but to act. This is fear in the extreme sense. Fear infringes on many other aspects of life; confidence, social interactions, changes. It can make the difference between a good choice or a bad choice. A pleasant experience or a bad one. We have all known fear in one degree or another. When I was younger I lived with fear on a daily basis. The fear of people finding out I was gay and that I was 'different' from everyone else. The fear that I could not relate to anyone else or that they could relate to me. That I was not 'good enough' or that I should be punished. It ran deep and in a way I was victimising myself with these issues. I wish I could have been more fearless. If I could have just banished those limitations that I placed on myself and realised that later in life, those sorts of things would not matter anymore. I would grow to learn that others have had similar experiences and these did not define who we are.
If I could go back in time and tell my younger version one thing it would be; 'be fearless'.