The Abyss

My heart is broken. In a way that I never knew it could break. It’s not broken based on romantic love. I have experienced that type of heartbreak before. It is painful, like your heart gets pulled out of your body and squished by someone else’s hands. Hands that you once desired, who you thought you would spend the rest of your life with, together as one. I am not feeling that type of pain right now. This one is deeper. It’s not just my heart that is impacted; it’s my soul. I feel like I fell into an abyss with never-ending depths. I am out of control, feeling like I’ll never stop falling. So disoriented, I no longer know if I am falling or flying. Suspended in time and space, with no trace of sunlight or anything recognizable. Another dimension that I didn’t know existed. 

No one talks about a broken soul, nor how to fix it. 

It’s so dark here, cryptic and ominous. I am thrashing my arms and kicking my legs, frantic and desperate to touch something, someone. The terror sets in that I am agonizingly alone. Longing for a hand to hold. A semblance of another human; anyone to comfort me, to remind me of who I am. I make an urgent plea with my thoughts. Please don’t let me be alone. I don’t want to be alone. I can’t be alone. I don’t know if I can survive on my own. 

Life didn’t prepare me for this type of solitude; a solitude with no guiding light. Directionless, with no home to run towards or away from.  

The darkness is still and vacant. I was overwhelmed with fear at first, but somehow the emptiness starts to feel reassuring. My curiosity is piqued. In the vastness of nothing, I am free from feeling. Free from the pain. Free from the abuse. Free from the chaos. Free from the confusion. Free from the responsibility. Maybe solitude isn’t as bad as I initially thought. The external world is not safe, but in nothingness, I can just be me. I can just breathe. 

I admit to myself that I am on my own, and no one will save me. I got this, Julianna. You are strong enough, I comfort myself. This awareness and acknowledgement soothes my anxious thoughts and alleviates the tension. I slowly and carefully begin adjusting to the obscurity. The quieter I get, the more I settle. The more I settle, the more vividly I can perceive. As if new senses are awakening, adapting to my new consciousness. That’s when I could feel a presence, one I have never felt before. I have trouble describing it, them, but I know they are there. Sometimes, I see them as entities moving around me. Sometimes, I notice them guiding me towards a direction, a decision I was contemplating. Sometimes, I feel them holding me without limbs, but an embrace nonetheless. They laugh, they joke, they give me serious sit-down lessons. 

My ancestors are here, and I will never be alone again.