paralyzed

I can’t move. I can’t make myself move. That huge hole in my heart is painful. I want to do things that could make me forget just how I am feeling but I can’t move. The TV doesn’t help. Farmville doesn’t help either. Usually I could just sleep it off but I can’t even do that. My heart is restless. And that horrible feeling of being lost engulfed me again.

 My mind tells me to go outside and sweep those dried leaves messing on the pathway. I got the broom but I turned away because I suddenly didn’t feel like doing it. I was thinking of washing clothes, I enjoy doing it but as I looked at the washing machine, the enthusiasm died and I didn’t want to do the laundry anymore. I went back inside the house. I know I have to clean my room. It has been messy for weeks now. I designed the walls with some art- just cutting squares without sharp edges in different colors and sizes (I don’t know what they call it; if there’s such appropriate English for squares without sharp edges). Papa calls it psychedelic art. In my 28 years of existence, I haven’t met that word until today. I googled  it and it is a form of art inspired by psychedelic experiences induced by hallucinogenic drugs. I sure want to look at the squares like I’m in another dimension and I want to make people think there were patterns when there aren’t and that the layers of each square meant something. But see, I’m not that much of a genius and I am not using drugs. I had fun doing it but today is just not one of those days.

Perhaps, I should cry. I don’t know. Sometimes I think I am going crazy and I don’t know what keeps my sanity together. I’m not the only person who has lost someone they love. I should be brave and strong and keep moving.

But I can’t move.

I wanted to pray… but that too seemed so difficult for me. I find it hard to believe that a miracle could still happen. I think about those times, countless times God has given us miracles. Those times I prayed and He answered. Those times I felt so close to heaven I could lose myself. But no matter how I try, I keep coming back to this dark place, I keep coming back to that day the heavens closed its gates on us and we were left weeping in so much pain. I didn’t see miracles happening anymore since then because my eyes are continuously covered with tears. I am trying though. My faith is a lot stronger than my pains and I know I’ll get through this. I still believe in God. Believing that He loves me is quite hard right now.

I don’t know until when this suffering would be. I just hope that Mama does not feel the way we do. Well, the loneliness and pain are only of this world and she’s now in the happiest place. With all the doubts I have, the idea of heaven is real for me. I just wish I could be there soon.