There it is again.
That overwhelming feeling of fear and guilt.
It took three years to get me here so I can only imagine it'll take at least that long to recover. Like slowly counting backwards from one million. A few deep breaths between every number, every moment, every day.
Diving too deep for my own good to find the truth.
No life guard on duty.
Swim at your own risk.
Through the haze and blackness of the bottom of the ocean, I see it as a treasure chest buried in the sand. I can see it beckoning to me by way of the sporadic rays of light that penetrate that many miles down, glinting off the shiny gold of the lock. Like a lighthouse directing sailors to the shore.
On and off.
On and off.
I carry the key on a chain around my neck. Always have and the weight is so heavy my head hangs too low to see you eye to eye and you interpret this as shame.
As I approach it, my hands get shaky like faulty wiring.
There's a sudden tension in my stomach that tells me I shouldn't open it but my ego is too big to just let it alone.
Instead, I lie to myself and say that I need the weight of this key lifted off my shoulders or I won't have the strength to make it back to the surface.
Never considering the weight of the chest.
"I just have to see what's inside. Even if I can't bring it back with me. I've been holding my breath down here for too long. I just want to breathe again."
I steady my digits just long enough to lift the chain off my neck and fit the key in the lock. With the chain and key gone I can feel myself floating upward. I'm so much lighter without that burden.
"Shouldn't that be enough? Isn't this what you wanted?"
"No, I have to see what's inside."
Foolish.
Selfish.
Greedy.
Glutinous.
Ungrateful.
"I don't care. I have to know the truth."
Finally, I turn the key and the lid bursts open with a frightening swiftness. That sickening tension travels from my stomach.
The shaking of my hands has subsided.
For a brief moment I feel nothing.
Then suddenly, that tight, tense grip on my gut has returned but this time it's around my throat. I start to wrap both my hands around it and I feel not my skin but thick scales dressed on cold, rubbery tubes.
Immediately I realize that the removal of the lock wasn't the reason the lid of the chest exploded open but that I'd finally freed a hellacious serpent that had been trapped inside. I gasp for air through the tiny passage of my cinched esophagus but only water fills my lungs.
"I told you this was wrong. I told you that you'd pay. I told you to leave the key and this would all be over. You had a choice and you chose selfishly. This did not have to be your fate."
The black gets blacker and the cold gets colder.
My hands start to shake more violently than ever but the serpent won't let me die.
"Apologies will get you nowhere. This was a test that you did not pass. You chose truth over trust and for that you are not worthy of the surface. Not the warmth of the sun nor a breath of air. Not the light nor the breeze. Alone with your truth. Alone with your serpent."
I'm counting backwards because down here, I've only found nothing to look forward to.
That overwhelming feeling of fear and guilt.
It took three years to get me here so I can only imagine it'll take at least that long to recover. Like slowly counting backwards from one million. A few deep breaths between every number, every moment, every day.
Diving too deep for my own good to find the truth.
No life guard on duty.
Swim at your own risk.
Through the haze and blackness of the bottom of the ocean, I see it as a treasure chest buried in the sand. I can see it beckoning to me by way of the sporadic rays of light that penetrate that many miles down, glinting off the shiny gold of the lock. Like a lighthouse directing sailors to the shore.
On and off.
On and off.
I carry the key on a chain around my neck. Always have and the weight is so heavy my head hangs too low to see you eye to eye and you interpret this as shame.
As I approach it, my hands get shaky like faulty wiring.
There's a sudden tension in my stomach that tells me I shouldn't open it but my ego is too big to just let it alone.
Instead, I lie to myself and say that I need the weight of this key lifted off my shoulders or I won't have the strength to make it back to the surface.
Never considering the weight of the chest.
"I just have to see what's inside. Even if I can't bring it back with me. I've been holding my breath down here for too long. I just want to breathe again."
I steady my digits just long enough to lift the chain off my neck and fit the key in the lock. With the chain and key gone I can feel myself floating upward. I'm so much lighter without that burden.
"Shouldn't that be enough? Isn't this what you wanted?"
"No, I have to see what's inside."
Foolish.
Selfish.
Greedy.
Glutinous.
Ungrateful.
"I don't care. I have to know the truth."
Finally, I turn the key and the lid bursts open with a frightening swiftness. That sickening tension travels from my stomach.
The shaking of my hands has subsided.
For a brief moment I feel nothing.
Then suddenly, that tight, tense grip on my gut has returned but this time it's around my throat. I start to wrap both my hands around it and I feel not my skin but thick scales dressed on cold, rubbery tubes.
Immediately I realize that the removal of the lock wasn't the reason the lid of the chest exploded open but that I'd finally freed a hellacious serpent that had been trapped inside. I gasp for air through the tiny passage of my cinched esophagus but only water fills my lungs.
"I told you this was wrong. I told you that you'd pay. I told you to leave the key and this would all be over. You had a choice and you chose selfishly. This did not have to be your fate."
The black gets blacker and the cold gets colder.
My hands start to shake more violently than ever but the serpent won't let me die.
"Apologies will get you nowhere. This was a test that you did not pass. You chose truth over trust and for that you are not worthy of the surface. Not the warmth of the sun nor a breath of air. Not the light nor the breeze. Alone with your truth. Alone with your serpent."
I'm counting backwards because down here, I've only found nothing to look forward to.