Orphan of the Universe
Orphan of the universe.
It’s about dealing with a lot of fears. When a scratch forms in the matrix, everything falls apart; yes, it falls apart. I am not ashamed; a wall remains, sprayed with dense graffiti — “You are alone,” alone, a wall of raw emotion, raw meat, wet with blood, scarred — thanks to the acid and on the ruins of the orphanhood trauma — a very large “alone,” and I don’t think there’s anything to be done about it. There is also no money around nor good people who can help; it’s just me, small and powerless, against a monstrous system that is set to destroy me.
What do I feel? Helplessness. I have no strength to do anything, no ability to defend myself. I am exposed and broken — a deep sense of impotence. I am paralyzed in the face of a situation that comes to erase me; the fear permeates deep, and I feel guilty.
Orphan of the Universe.
I don’t internalize the progress I’ve made over the years. There are unresolved places that remain as pits in the soul, and when a scratch tears in the matrix, I immediately fall into these pits. I am sucked in. A vacuum. These are bureaucracy, bureaucratic institutions, general helplessness in grasping reality, madness, cruelty, strong abstraction without name or definition, and flares of a multi-dimensional annihilation system entwining around me and glowing. What is this place? They become a wall, a barrier, like in Pink Floyd’s movie; the walls close in a circle around me, it darkens, and the ceiling falls on my head.
I try to express the breakdown, the crisis, and the paralyzing helplessness that occurs when I encounter something that painfully wounds my reality. Maybe it’s not so terrible? The unpleasant surprise makes me feel like a porcelain Russian doll being struck by a hammer. I remember the song ‘Porcelain’ by the Red-Hot Chili Peppers and finally understand it: a gentle, quiet song, perfection. This place is not turbulent. It’s not a storm, not drama. Flames, screams — not at all. Emotional transgression that feels like a distortion of trauma remnants that are no longer related to reality. But in the moment of truth, the oppressive place is frightening and takes over, and dysfunctionality threatens to break me down.
I try to break down the shock, the weakness unrelated to reality that comes from within and takes over me entirely, into shekels and shackles, but it feels as if it is not clear enough, not sharp and distinct, that I am alone and defenseless, self-defense-less, incapable of defending or reacting. I feel guilty, lost in a corner, and waiting for punishment.
A myth that does not relent.
Different scratches in the matrix keep bringing me back to this place, to a figure within the walls — slumped, broken, devoid, dead, emptied, helpless, powerless, but I am no longer there. Not in my soul, not in my spirit. Certainly not in my reality. Maybe I never was? What is this place that echoes in me tangibly and tries to find a foothold in my soul as if it owns the place? What is this stubborn place? Why can’t we part? Why do I give it power over me? How come, without any awareness, I let the depths of the world surface over and seal me within a transparent, distorted trauma of fear and pain?
A Boundless Cosmic Blues
Waves of fear. I can conquer them! Depths of terror across infinite space, flying between realms of cold, vacuum, fear, joy, freedom… Interwoven dimensions of good and evil, light and darkness, planets and stars, sunrises on lost moons — the inner world that has become a synthesis of the cosmic freedom of childhood and the pits of fear that arose from unresolved places in the soul. Hidden light. A place that once held utopian joy in my youth also became a disastrous manifesto of absurdity. Celebrations of eternal omnipotence alongside feelings of heavy, harsh physical loss. What is this place? Why do I vanish into a mythological drama of a Sisyphean feeling, trying, trying and failing, persisting, climbing, yet always remaining at the bottom of the slope of the pit of anxiety every time I want to stop and collect myself? Can I take responsibility for myself and my life? By the very act of writing, the detailed exploration of the complexity of the nullifying experience, am I forming a resistance to the cruel vacuum created by the scratch in the matrix? Like the Dutch boy’s finger in the dike — am I stopping the flood of helplessness that brings misery?
Yes! Today, I can grasp and define the nothingness that has taken over the cosmic universe that once shone in my soul and turned it, over many years, at times, into a planet of dark, despairing swamps.
Yes! I can see with my eyes. I open a clear cosmic gaze to the emotional terror and fears, breathe deeply, and move through them to the next stage. I am removing the chains of pain and taking responsibility for myself and my life. I rise, breathe deeply, and once again traverse the expanses of space in a free and boundless flight, without base and definition, with the power of eternal depth and tranquility.
An orphan of the universe.
