I smoke among the dead at night…

I smoke among the dead at night. Most people would be shaken at the thought of that mere occurrence but I’m not. When I think of it now, I wonder why that little aspect of things has never really phased me considering I have been out there at the wee hours of the morning. My mind has fears of its own, dead people just isn’t one of them.

Maybe it is the silence that calms me. It sure isn’t the cigarettes I’m taking twice a night and four times a day. Or maybe it could be the darkness of the dead of night that gives me a sense of resemblance. It shows me that the darkness inside couldn’t possibly be that scary, at least not scary enough to stop me from staring at it alone, with the company of the seven gravesites in the backyard of my balcony. How about, it could also be that those dead folks who are buried there can feel my silent screams from the inside every night as I exhale the smoke out of my lungs. I try not to cough, we have a no sound policy out there when it’s just our souls that seem to come alive.

I hope they know of the nights that I wish I was in there with them, buried under the soil to where it is said to be peaceful. The adage, ‘’rest in peace’’ had to have had a mild relevance to the fact that besides your soul, your body and mind too can rest on the ground six feet under where not a beep of the darkness of depression can touch you. I smoke in the midst of the dead. I feel nothing and everything the darkness has to offer. I welcome it with open arms just as I do with every inhale and exhale of the cigarettes that lay print of their smoke in the middle of my fingers.

Breathing Underwater

I’m different. Am sure we all consider ourselves so not because just because we want to feel special but because we are actually different. Being different for me is a lifestyle. I have to constantly try to maintain it and blend in even despite how different I am. I am different because I don’t conform to what people regard as normal. Am I happy to be this different, I don’t know .Does a part of me thrive in it, definitely so …..I wouldn’t be writing this if I didn’t.I don’t believe ultimate peace is something I have possibly ever felt. A part of me is always damned to feel turmoil and anxiety over one thing or another. I do wish though I had one ability. Something I recently pondered my mind over and now looks quite appealing to my me. Ever thought of how peaceful it is under water. How calm and silent it is and just how peaceful it can get. I wish I could breathe underwater and just sit still enough to shut out everything and anything. I’m certain enough that some of you that will read through this will probably think that I’m back to my depressive past and am not gonna justify whether it’s true or not… Think whatever appeals to you.Silence is peaceful and so is death. I wouldn’t want to die through water. I feel like its probably the worst way to die because you can’t fight it, you feel the life drain out with each breath of water as it fills your lungs. In water, I would hope to find contentment. I would hope to let my anxiety over everything go, to be still and not worry about. To completely rid myself of meager feelings and emotions that are more of burdens than a boost of my humanity. To put aside memories that do more damage than good. I wish breathing underwater would do that for me. That would be my ultimate peace.Being melancholic is hard. I feel everything thats meant to be dark. I revel in it even when it’s toxic. Walls so high up, they feel unpenetratable(not sure that’s a word.)I over think, I feel too much and I sure as hell damn care too much. Water would drown out all that for me. That’s why if I had one super power, it would be to breathe underwater 🌊.