Lunacy

Pericles

Puros cuentos

The gun on the naked table hold the dark key of some kind of liberation.

I put down the consumed cigarette in the ashtray and puffed the last smoke out of my system.

The gun wasn’t loaded, but remained as a reminder of my inner struggle.

Struggle that at times would transform itself into all out war.

Wars that many times I had lost in tearfulness and pain.

I felt trapped inside my mind were chaos and emotional winds will swirled around my tormented soul.

So far nothing had helped me overcome this personal inferno.

I stood up and walked eternally towards my bed,only to find myself still within the confines of my afflicted existence.

How all this started?.I couldn’t remember.

The voices once were a clue but no more,since I couldn’t understand them anymore.

They had promised me a back door to a quiet intellect, in exchange for afflicting random destruction.

I felt like if existing in different worlds simultaneously.Were I played multiple roles with unpredictable logic and fragmented conclusions that nobody wanted to hear or could understand.

My mind harboring the extreme of contradictory thinking,consuming my strength while attempting a conciliation of some sort.

“The tenderness of it all,of the inner walls of my psyche” i reflected.

“Emotionally bleeding at the minimal stroke or caressing.By my willingness to think even the smallest thoughts.”

All,forcing me into a path of the absolute and the unknown.

The voyage back to the table was full of terminal reflections and the collapsing of my inner planets.

I felt no gravity or emotion.

A strange quietness had overcome me.

The bullet in my hand,like a projectile that would take me to another dimension, weighted heavy in my heart.

As I sat,the phone rang.

And kept ringing until I heard a familiar voice leaving me a message.

A message that i refused to hear,even though had already transverse my hearing leaving the final part,impossible to filter.

An “I love you “.

But there was a problem.

How is it,that a machine is telling me that it loves me?

And then,emulate the voice of my mother?

Do I come from a machine?

Thought that triggered a frenzy of possibilities.

Or maybe the voices have found a way for me to be able to hear them more clearly?.

I admit,that possibility fascinated me.

For a moment,I felt a connection with the Origin.

But how can I know for sure?

Maybe I needed to return to my mother’s womb,I thought.

But,time was of essence.

So without further hesitation,I loaded the gun,and put it back on the table.Hoping the voice machine would come back to clarify my mental conundrum.

And as I was about to smoke what I believed was going to be the last cigarette, the phone rang again.

I thought: “I will filtrate the message in case of contamination and keep the code”.

After all,I just wanted to break free from the spiritual underworld,unscarred.

I stood up,putting down on the table the instruments of my vice,and walked towards the maternal machine.

Suddenly,I started hearing the drumming of the voices with increasing louder deafening beat,ordering me not to answer.

“Ah !!” I sighed.

“Now they don’t want me to escape their painful grasp, that they have been exercising on my being”

I reflected.

But I did answer.

Not ever knowing what voice corresponded to the one on the phone.

So hanged up,and started a game of elimination.

Realizing that the voice on the phone, had said something like ‘ready’.

“Ready?”

“So the Origin is ready to receive me?”

I pondered.

Relived that I was going back to my mother’s womb,i bypassed the last smoking rite and grabbed the loaded gun . Feeling the coldness of the metal on my hand,I aimed it to my right temple.

And as I was taking my last conscious breath,someone started knocking vigorously on my door.

“They actually came for me?”

I was amazed.

So i opened the door and saw two people.

One said she was my mother and the other one said, that he was an older brother of mine,or something to that effect.

And that’s all I remember.

But still,is interesting how the Origin starts everything all over again,I mean.

Eventually,I ended up having several sessions of electroconvulsive treatment, so my mind could be reborn again.

Essentially losing all the parts of my old thinking ,by fragmentation of my thoughts in a multitude of pieces, so I could not put them back together like in a elliptical absurd puzzle.

And yet,the ebullience of my emotions remains intact.

Only to feed my older selfs ,who themselves had been electrically reborn.

Old selfs that continue talking to me in such a variety of disguised voices and tones,that perplexes me in the way they guide me into so many different worlds,their worlds.

So I wonder.

How many versions of me,will be within me forever?.

FOU