You always know you don’t deserve it. That it is someone else’s misfortune God has wrongly bestowed upon you. It challenges your very existence. You believed all good things happen to good people. You hope your life is a delusion or just a dream. Perhaps it is and you may wake out of it at any moment.
You wake up every morning hoping that it was just a dream and you finally escaped that nightmare. But you are wrong all the time. The dream is a dark, gaping void you face. You try to run from it, edit it out. The more you run, the more terrible, deeper it grows. You don’t remember how many times you have been trying to escape, you are still in that dream. You pray to God. But unfortunately it was God who had turned renegade and obliterated the very chances of getting out unscathed from that dream. You get illusions of somebody’s hand stretched out, but it evanesces as soon as you try to catch it.
You look into the mirror. Perhaps it isn’t your reflection after all. You don’t remember how your face looked like. Or it is not your life. Or you are just an onlooker in someone else’s life. Fate is an intransigent devil. It sacrileges the image you greatly valued, strived for, fought for to make it the colossus of your identity. It blemishes your soul. It’s like falling in a deep hole again. No matter how long you try to climb out, you can still fall back in an instant. That’s the genius of the hole. Looking at the sky above you ask God ‘why me?’ It occurs to you that if you had done something differently you would have been a different person asking a different question, living a different life.
You convince yourself that this bad thing cannot happen. Truth is a lie you tell yourself before going to bed. You vehemently ask questions to life, which have nothing but obscure answers. Life must be all false, an illusion, just a nightmare. The only problem is that you aren’t asleep. And you cannot wake up.
