first chapter of my story epilogue: Of the vilest minds

[megem]

Since I had come to, as one might say, the liberating realization that to have suspended my final year of college I had done myself one of the greatest horrific act, I have felt my life synchronously fall apart and bloom from the ashes of my self-made agonizing attempt to turn my life around. It came to me, frankly, quite gradually, these ideas in disguise of a prophetic nature. And just as water is placed on a heating pot, very undisturbed and unmoving at first but then suddenly you are met with the aggravating bubbles at the top of the surface gurgling loudly, I was also met with the disfigured truth in front of me which I had taken throughout my whole life great pains in trying my best to conceal it. To me, these prophecies came like this; in the form of these almost divine visions which gripped me in the middle of night, sizing me breathless, making me sweat restlessly and leave me empty hours after the vision had long dispersed. Completely out of the blue and when I least expected them. Not during those times that I would smoke pot straight from the bathroom’s cabinet, ones which offered from the guests of one of them dumpster parties where only retarded people went to — i never went to any of them on my own but thought the volition of my alcoholic friends which had their way with me and knew just how to make me go along with them — not from those night which i felt like drinking myself to death after a series of maddening and self-destructive thoughts or neither after nights when having ended a straining argument with my parent over the phone, i would go swaying around the city in the latest of hours. Especially not during those friday nights, where I would get throbbing and painstaking headaches at the temple of my head persisting to leave for days to come. No, it would always come during the most serene of moments. The ones where my soul, undisturbed, became one with the balmy nature of the things which I so much adored. For example at the sight of the warm morning light after the sun had just peaked I would get these pandora-opening thoughts. Or when the fresh smell produced by the flipping of the pages of an archaic book would infiltrate into my nose and would shake my whole understanding of the world I knew. The worst of visions appeared to me during those times at the sight of the mellowy and giddy atmosphere which sized my studio each afternoon,some dys more than others, when the gilded beams, breaking in softly thought the casement of the wall, poured onto the walnut wooden railing ,filling the room entirely of honey colors. It gave me the sensation of an exotic drunkenness and it spinned my head to the point of considering ….. as the only solution to my dreadful life. Between these seconds one might get those, the so-called “calling of life”, which fills your soul with a valorous purpose. Mine was in the form of those unanticipated visions, one of which let my life take a completely utterly different path.
The first time a vision appeared in front of me, in the deepest part of my soul I finally felt like my life was reaching this higher state of enlightenment. I felt as if I could finally see what had been hidden from me all my life and for the first time I finally made sense of everything through that limpid glass. why my life had had to take this wretched road. Now I can never say I am the type to get swayed easily and if my visions had stopped there, who knows where I would still be. In all its likelihood, I would be slaving still over the courses of that past life-sucking degree of mine, digging my head through those heavy diabolical books which taught me nothing more strongly than how to commit unspeakable things toward myself.
When the first vision appeared to me I thought I was going insane. My mind was wandering and flying back and forth and my body was exhausted beyond words that whenever I got a headache I treated it as my most prized possession as it indicated I was still part of my body and my mind hadn't wandered far enough to the point of no return. I carried my pain as a sight, an indicator that my body was still there, present within me, despite not really feeling it as though. It awoke in me a surge-like emotion which I didn't quite know what it was, couldnt pinpoint it, but it was there. A revelation without discourse. As it can easily be understood by now, there's little I remember during that time. During those days of college I remember things very vaguely. Bits of pieces that i would be doing homework at 2 am and I would be sweating and coughing like crazy — i don't remember if i had been sick during that time or not, even though it seems like it — or times where i would be in a dance floor dancing with a bunch of my friends with the music so loud i wasn't even sure i was listening anything at some point, behaving very caddishly as we passed the night latter on vomiting at the side of the road just outside the bar. I remember quite distinctly— thought as if it was a very distant day— however, that disdainfully cold night, where nothing made a sound, and I felt as if I was the last person alive. With a “theory of structure” book by my hand, which i don't know how it had materialized in there or if i had been reading it moments ago, barely holding it with the tips of my fingers, I would be gazing into city with half dazzling eyes, spread onto the floor of the balcony’s apartment, barefoot and having thrown on me only a black tank top with vomiting stain close to my neck which once in a while its smell wound travel to my nose and make me want to barf even more and a pair of gray sweatpant. And all that in spite of the fact that the air was so bitterly cold that it would send me ever so often tremors through my spine and I would get cold shivers so often I almost started to believe I was having a seizure at one point. I know for a fact that at that time I was not just admiring the scenery. In the course of those events where I would be in complete haze and so out of it I would be without a question mistaken for a relapsed patient. I had a very disturbed mind and all I did, I did in a daze, not knowing where I wandered, what I consumed and who I conversed with. So it is safe to say that my mind was wandering from one corner of my mind to the other without a care in the world. But something caught my mind that particular night and i don't know what I did in those following seconds except that when i snapped back from my drunken state, suddenly i was with my leg half dagling outside of my balcony’s bars and with both hands steadily grasping the balcony’s railings, so stanchly that it had begun to jerk intensify.
From where I was I could see with clarity the whole greenery below me and it was a sight to marvel if I hadn't been seconds away from jumping to it . It was so mystifying yet horrifying that without a second to miss I withdrew fiercely back and fell into the floor with my arm flat into the hard ground and they slammed so damn hard that I didn't feel them for a good old minute, not sure if it was from adrenaline or not thought. But one thing I remember distinctly well is the joy I felt surging into my soul with incomprehensible speed. I felt my face get rid of this cloud of gloom and as it disappeared I felt every ounce of it as if it had materialized itself just for the sake of the enjoyment I would feel when it scattered. For the first time in a while I felt pure delightment. And I felt an urge to get up and start my life anew. I was content and in those few seconds I felt like I could see what most people saw in their everyday life and it was so reassuring that I felt my left eye getting soaked in the salty tears I had so missed the past few months. But of course all faded away soon enough and it was replaced by the feeling of disillusionment and contempt for the life I had been living up until then.
By the end of my second semester I would have countered a number of 5 visions of the same nature,(never the same, sometime i would act upon them, sometime i would hear a serene voice telling me sometime lucid jumble of words which would forget in an instant and sometime a bunch of incomprehensible combined sounds or i would see something flash by me multiple times during the day, during the times which i would feel the most detached from life and would taken myself for a demented person) as the first one and yet no one of them had changed my life as drastically and dramatically as I had anticipated it would. They all happened in such a shock that i had barely the time to shook myself and figure out what had happened before i would ardently fall back, as if in hypnosis, into my old ways, drowned into the self-immersed dissatisfaction, if i could call it that, given the fact i was not quite myself enough to see how the worlds was revolving and evolving around me. The time went by fast and with every passing day I could feel my life forces being dragged out, departing from my body and mind.
Tragic as my life was, it seems that I had no problem in involving myself in the most gaudy of hobbies . I was always in the pursuit of my impulses as if I was taken by the hand from them, and me, delightfully following them with a blindfold over my eyes. Despite my frequent calls from my parents telling me to change my ways, I never really considered that what I was doing was a bad thing. All of the things that might have been; catastrophic, detrimental, self destructive, bad was not the word. I associated my behavior as caling it the road to my salvation. How could I, when all I was doing was indulging in the simplest of pleasures, giving in to my soul’s needs to thrive, something that everyone had failed to give to me in my early stages of girlhood. And so where society had failed me, I had picked myself up and in the only way I knew how. I had tried to offer my soul a peace of comfort.
As a child I had always admired people who knew themselves well. Knew who they were, what they wanted to do and what their beliefs and ideals were. As a lost child, I wasn't quite sure what I had to do most of the time. So I made it a habit to always look up to people. To observe the way they lived so I could have the blueprint beforehand. people who shone so bright with their confidence were the ones my eyes caught the most. The ones who spoke with such magnificent confidence. Their words weighed so much compared to the valueless and insubstantial phrase which spurred from my mouth, (which i am most confident were phrases i had heard from someone else and in attempt to replicate them but at the same time in fear of being found out of plagiarism, trying to make them as my own i had gone and altered their meaning so much, it had turned once again into ridiculously sour statements) this yearning to resemble them pushed me to always try and mock the happiness of others. Compared to my philistine mundane pursuits, their initiative to life was so rigorous, I had to take a piece of their brightness and keep it for myself. their energy and optimism to life awed me. But the radiation of joy could only be mimicked by me for so long and soon enough everything would wear off and I would be left as naked of gaiety as a corpse of life.
The only remedy to my illness was this continuous pursuit of happiness and to venture anywhere my legs would lead me on. I hopelessly hoped that flitting with these bare feet from one thing to another would render in me a gilded reason for pursuing life. I even went to such lengths that my mind would subconsciously try to push the thought of originality deep into the roots of my brain, leading me to believe that I could take no heed of others and I was finally unbound of the unworthiness as to have of my own volition as soon as for a brief moment i had successfully integrated other's thoughts into mine.
To develop matter’s furtherly I had terribly loathsome dreams, when one gets shaky visions which comes back and forth, it is faced with the most altered meanings of things and disfigured notions intertwined with applaudable tranquility one gains after having gone over something so inpercentyble, your brain automatically shuts off and lets you in your own hushed discred state. It could have be only described as something of a dissapointment the first few seconds after waking up to such dreams. But with every passing second I became even more aware and greatful of the blessing of having woken up because even when I rethought about the dream it would put my body in such a severe paralysis that everything would drown of noise and it would feel like I was experiencing life from a third narrative teller. It was, perhaps, the most haunting, helpless and terror-filled feeling.
Despite all, it would have been a lie if said that these prophetic dreams had not been part of my life since i was a young girl. But having been met with disapproval and incredulity from all those around me I had to come around not to speak of them no longer. And anyhow these dreams had not the slightest connections despite that both were experiences of avidy of their own. Not of the same nature had been a single one and yet when reminiscing of one it is impossible not to mention the other.
Having gained experience with these kinds of fables didn't really change anything in me. Perhaps had I regarded them as something abnormal, and if my wonted mind had payed them any heed as typical as one might regard it a decent amount, maybe this sudden path of mylife, paved by my devoted years of passiveness of all things spinning around me, and with me in the center and persuasively in the conner of it, might have very well been altered instead of sealing my fate for the years to come.

[Archie Mckelvey]

Wow, it sounds like this story is quite introspective and reflective. The author's vivid descriptions of their experiences and emotions really draw you in. The way they describe the gradual realization and the impact it had on their life is quite powerful. The use of metaphors, like the heating pot and the disfigured truth, adds depth to the storytelling. The author's ability to capture the unexpected nature of these prophetic visions and the intense emotions they evoke is impressive. I'm curious to know more about the serene moments they mention. Overall, it seems like a thought-provoking and emotionally charged story.