Who am I?

The world is turning too quickly and im losing my balance, threatening to topple over and break my neck. I try to focus on who am I; I can feel that I am losing all sense of identity, that I am becoming a shell for a hermit to settle within, a new home for a piece of vermin, to corrupt my actions. My mind is fuzzy as thoughts are spinning on a merry go round, laughing and daring to call out to go faster, so recklessly that all form disappears and becomes one long streak of colour. My memories are frantically holding on to the jutted sides of my skull, a shredder just ten centimetres from the tip, ready to strip them bare, cut up the words and images, turn them into one great mushy mass of confusion. My eyes are flicking from side to side as if they are watching a sped up tennis match, trying desperately to concentrate on my personality as it skips away down the alley leaving me distressed and alone. The friction causes my tear ducts to lubricate and sting, salty water forming a skin around my eye ball, the faster my eyes move, the more water there is until the socket cannot hold any more and the tears sink down my face. My breathing has increased, lungs feeling as if they need more air causing my mouth to rapidly suck in the atmosphere to calm its burning desires. The desperate lungs have a domino effect on the heart who now thinks the body is about to shut down and so pumps the blood at a higher rate, red cells hurtling into the gaps around my heavily contracting organs. The skin prickles and pinches as the blood hits the walls, the hairs standing to attention as an electric shock stabs my body.

I unexpectedly realise that I’ve not lost her, I’ve lost myself and that’s the most disappointing thing. That someone was so important to me, that I relied on someone that much, that I could lose all sense of being, all sense of existence on this planet. I searched the world for myself, looking down rabbit holes and only finding Alice, I explored caves but only found Dr Rachel Solando who made me question my identity even more. I sat at a table in the Moulin Rouge and only learnt that you have to pay for love, I looked into the eyes of Patrick Bateman and discovered a mirrored reflection of a monster, I danced with Sister Jude who thought my name was Lana Banana and learnt that if you look in the face of evil, evil will stare right back at you. I visited Kevin and found that neither of us had ever really been happy, I hung from the bed as the beautiful melody of Fjogur Piano filled the room and watched as the scene played over and over, getting lost within the drug fuelled cycle. I ran and ran with Donnie, searching for Frank but only found a boy with a missing eye, slumped against a car. I screamed at every turn, in frustration, who am I? Who am i? Who am i?

I collapsed against a wall, head in hands, silently weeping, anguish and pain and heartbreak and grief all escaped from my body, settled in the oval tears that filled my palms, stroking my cheeks and tickling my eyelashes. I felt a body relax at the side of me, a hand placed on my shoulder, I didn’t look up but I knew it was Charlie and i felt the warmth hit my skin and dance across my soul, I felt the calm and the love transport through my blood caressing my organs and my mind went blank, all negativity vanished and I knew who I was. I knew my adventures looking for myself, were actually defining who I was, that the search was just as important as the discovery. I knew one day, all this, they will be new memories, they will be our stories, they may be sad stories but they will have chiselled into our skin, outlining who we are. And maybe one day, I won’t be a sad story anymore and maybe one day I will really, truly feel alive, and maybe one day, I will swear, that I was, infinite.