by Camille Pellicer
Have you ever felt a pain so terrible, so unbearable that you couldn’t help but scream in agony,
hoping, maybe, that this sound would set you free for a second? Whether it’s a broken bone or a
broken heart, there are some pains that never cease to consume you or torment you. It’s like an
old friend who comes to say hello, every single day, making sure you haven’t forgotten about him.
This is the pain I feel every morning when I wake up.
The first thirty seconds, softly between my sleep and my waking is when it starts. I am conscious
at last but I am not awake yet, I am floating in a limbo. First, I feel it in my guts, here, like a hand choking my intestine, an old and wrinkly witch’s hand with gruesome black cutting nails, a scared little girl’s hand holding to her mummy’s, too afraid to let go. My first breath is polluted by the taste of putrid vomit in my mouth as I slowly remember where I am, who I am. I never can answer the question why though. Why do I feel like this? Why is it so painful? Why me? I would like to scream but I can’t. I am paralysed in this oh too familiar comfortable pain that greets me every day.
A dark heavy cloud presses against my chest and compresses my brain like a serpent slowly
crawling through every inch of my body, making sure the venom penetrates my soul. I start to feel
the weight of my foul and greasy bag of bones. That’s when I hear it finally. The familiar repetitive
sound of my fucking heart reminding me viciously that I am in prison, a slave to the time of my
ridiculous human life.
I am awake at last. I open my eyes. It’s sunny most of the time but I can’t feel the warmth of the
sun. I can’t hear the birds singing and I can’t feel the fresh air coming through the window. I don’t
even want to feel any of it, I am too comfortable in this addictive pain that strangely feels like
home, feels like me.
Maybe it is as simple as a choice, choosing to welcome the brand new day and to say out loud,
“Good morning”.
Good morning.
