Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: Existential Despair

  • Strange Empty Anguished

    Strange Empty Anguished

    Strange
    Empty
    Anguished
    I wandered through the void, searching for myself
    But never finding myself
    In the illusion that I too could touch my dreams and bury my fears
    Exhausted
    Without strength
    I tried to reach the infinite
    But all I got as a reward was the abyss of my destruction
    I could see different fragments of my soul
    As if I were made of multiple creatures
    Memories echoed as I was overwhelmed by the ocean of absence
    Obliterated by my own dreams
    Dazed by the night sky where the stars were gleaming ferociously
    I lost all purpose in my existence
    Wandering aimlessly in the labyrinth of darkness
    Where flowers of fear blossomed
    While my heart was striving to beat
    Since an eternal numbness captivated my senses
    Hollow sparks of ineptitude inflamed the candles of my modest dwelling
    I could hear them
    I could hear my ghastly memories call my name like howls in a fierce storm
    No one could perceive them but me

    Strange
    Empty
    Anguished
    I could not see any horizon anymore
    Such was the haze surrounding me
    A bizarre peculiarity in a realm with no past or future
    The cold blizzard knocked my windows impetuously
    An unwelcome and unexpected guest
    Among the copious phantoms inhabiting my little insensate world
    Where fantasy was endless as well as my infinite dreams
    Legends of vanished stars and withered blossoms
    I dared no longer to visit those abodes of viciousness
    Belonging finally only to my concealed past history
    And the night penetrated the old wall stones of my ancient hearth
    Depleting me of any power to dissuade myself from falling into illusions
    I faded again and again into the darkness of night
    As I was a tiny speck of infinity
    While the ocean waves touched the luminaries
    In a game of shadows and glares.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Castaway’s Desires

    Castaway’s Desires

    Castaway’s desires enticed me in the long winter nights, when the frozen branches of hollow trees caressed me softly, as they needed to approach my body.

    The scent of burning candles devoured my enthusiasm and reminded me only of my hopeless misery. An everlasting burning desire strove to swallow my heart greedily like an invisible demon.

    My insensitive inertia shattered my soul into pieces and I let the devastation take advantage of me. I was born to dissolve and to perish an infinite number of times in endless ways.

    Frenzy and turmoil were my loyal guides like flaming torches in the deepest darkness, and they offered me their improper wisdom. I felt alive only because I embodied the distress that consumed me, leaving me in flames.

    Indeed, it was true that scorching passion sometimes might have let me fall in love with things that destroyed, and that was what penetrated every part of me.

    I was made of fire and glaze surrounded by the cold mist of my dark chamber where dimly lit candles were my only merriment.

    The sweet screams of the night recalled to me who I really was. Obsession carved my vein instilling a tainted poison instead of blood. I became a creature of the realm of shadows and wraiths.

    I was consumed by my own fantasies and foolish hallucinations. I had become the queen of frenzy among my lost memories of worlds which I once belonged to.

    No mortal entity could see me because I was visible only to creatures of my own. There was no transformation in my staticity.

    I could perceive the manifestation of my own tempest, like a tiny vessel in a stormy sea. Lost in the labyrinth of my dreams and dread, I was unable to discover the existence beyond time.

    The great mystery of seeking my reflection in the immense mirror of life made me realise my nothingness. There was no end and there was no beginning but merely a vague silence clinging to me like luscious ivy.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Melancholic Discomfort

    Melancholic Discomfort

    Melancholic discomfort was a mirror to my soul. Dead leaves fell with sadness. Sorrow grasped dreams and delight. The abyss of nothingness extended its boundaries. Delusional visions became gloomy shadows. Portals of darkness were sources of uncertainty. Illusion was reality but not anymore. Distances become journeys to surreal realms. Deceitful hopes were invisible traps

    Silence hushed me as an imperious order. There was no prophecy able to entangle my fate. Everything was distorted and hypnotising. Obsessions clutched my heart with nails and quills. The horizon was shrouded in haze. Only darkness was guiding me in a labyrinth of bitterness and revenge. I saw squalor swallowing magnificence. I heard the screams of joy of demented fools. Their claws were embedded in precious paintings

    At night I woke up overwhelmed by the moans of pain and dread. It was the visitation of those who had no voice. So many times, I wished to keep my heart in oblivion. But it was never the case. They came and their poison penetrated into my heart. I kept myself faraway from each one of them. At the end, my dreams had opened my eyes and I saw everything.

    It was too late and too soon. Time had no sense anymore. Nothing made sense anymore. Everything had become a dark nightmare. There was no escape. There was no salvation. I had been punished for having seen too much. Beyond any imagination. As if nature could have welcomed me to another realm. Where I was free from other mediocrity chains.

    The mist enveloped me, as if it wanted to protect me from seeing things that would dishearten and hurt me. I had been shamelessly emulated by horrible ghouls who scrutinised me with envious and treacherous eyes. Copycats who used my lipstick-red shade strove to reproduce my portraits in a grotesque, ridiculous style.

    Mediocrity and corruption wanted me to hush, because I had revealed their appalling secrets. But the wind was my ally and it brought my words to all the domains. My heart has been shattered and devastated. I had become a shell of myself. I couldn’t recognise my countenance in the silvery surface of cynical mirrors. I had no dreams anymore because I had lost any desire to return to my fantastical journey.

    I was just a shell of myself, a ghost devoid of every hope to find the delights in a lugubrious existence. Touching the gelid walls of a house made of memories and bones, I was reminded of the several losses, demises and vaults, which were entangled in my heart. I had lost everything that was very dear to me in an indissoluble manner.

    I felt a melancholic discomfort like sharp nails piercing my heart, and an absence of noise, as if I had already vanished before parting. Long nights expired slowly, as though they didn’t want to leave space for the daylight. I was annoyed at the thought of seeing clumsy and mediocre beings wallowing in a world filled with cornucopias and treasure chests.

    I constantly felt like a creature condemned to see what I didn’t want to see. Squalor, venality, superficiality, and idiocy were served on platters of gold and gems as jewels of admiration and wisdom. I felt so disoriented and emptied of all my desires and dreams that I didn’t even know what I wished to accomplish anymore with my copious dreams in a tragic existence.

    All my anguished thoughts turned into raw, unfiltered words. The sense of deep disappointment had disarmed me and I no longer knew what to do. Countless times I had lost myself and never found that part of me that had faded into oblivion. Lacklustre, shallow, and ostentatious mortals had shamelessly disconcerted me.

    Their grimaces in front of the cameras and idiotic poses had dominated the scene along with their bottles of luxurious perfumes, their exorbitant chocolates, and their sumptuous jewels. I saw marionettes devoid of any decency, which were crowned queens of a fallen kingdom made of corrupted remnants and the dust of wickedness. 

    I sat under a dead tree in the garden of disillusions, I was already exhausted by a profusion of daring adventures, feeling that I was no longer capable of moving forward. I had given up in the face of the devastation and desecration of beauty and art. I didn’t want to be part of that assembly that reeked of disintegration and decay pit.

    But at the same time, I felt helpless because I could not save what had been cruelly torn away from me. My shattered heart stopped beating and turned into a heavy stone that made me fall into the abyss of nightmares. A fatal slumber had captured me, and I wept for the lack of dreams.

    The melancholy of the memories of what I lost overwhelmed me like a stormy sea. I felt helpless in the face of a tsunami of catastrophic events that had infested my life. I didn’t want to know anything anymore. I didn’t want to feel anything anymore. I didn’t want to love anything anymore.

    I locked myself in a refuge of perpetual silence, shunning everything that had damaged and scarred me. Every form of bliss had been relinquished since I had become a shadow in a world that didn’t belong to me any longer. I shunned the realm of degradation and profanity.

    I had embodied all the despairs and struggles that had chased me, now that I was a shadow in a realm of darkness and doom. Dressed in fragments of forgotten beauty, I wandered aimlessly as if fate had abandoned me. A gentle breeze of restlessness and sadness enveloped me, as if to remind me that I still had a heart.

    The hiss of loneliness was the only sound that constantly accompanied me. At the same time, I could not find a horizon or a destination to follow. I had regained myself by losing myself in the void, with the hope of forgetting everything that had erased me. I vanished like an evanescent cloud at twilight just before the eternal night came to announce its hegemony.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • A Shallow Melancholy

    A Shallow Melancholy

    A shallow melancholy caught me in the labyrinth of torment and insomnia. My heart was pierced and disheartened by senseless whirlwinds of despair and anguish.

    I didn’t know where I was headed, but I could only feel a tremendous intimidation inside myself. A vast, gloomy shadow wouldn’t allow me to see beyond the horizon.

    I had no destination, and it seemed that I had no free choice to escape from that doomed fate of mine. The haze was so dense, and the night was so dark that I couldn’t find any portal to allow me to escape.

    I screamed to the stars, but they refused to listen to my voice, and I was cast away from their gaze for eternity. The everlasting darkness granted me the utmost agony, and sorrow lulled me to a fatal slumber.

    Although I cherished my dreams, they vanished into the ashes of decay. Solitude and loneliness had spellbound me with their sombre and mournful enchantment.

    In a mystic aura, I was viscously bound to a magical realm of lost spirits and wicked wraiths, which whispered their laments to my ears.

    I knew not who I had become and what my name was. So much confused and chaotic was the state of my heart that it sank deeply into the abyss of havoc.

    I fell into ecstasy and bliss, enjoying my decay and every pang bestowed upon my heart. Hurt and frantic, I shed tears of bliss and elation.

    My sobs and sighs broke the solemn silence that remained my most loyal companion in that kingdom of demise and chagrin.

    Frenzy distressed me, and turmoil shattered my heart. I embraced the bitter emptiness, hovering like an ethereal creature in search of magic vaults and secret forests.

    And there were no beginnings nor ends in the domain of the shallow melancholy. I dangled from spectral threads that drew me into my perpetual disintegration. And I lay there, claimed by the hereafter.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Whimsical Chimaeras

    Whimsical Chimaeras

    Whimsical chimaeras blossomed in my garden of extravagant flowers and frantic trees. When the silent valley of dreams was crammed with forbidden hopes, the stars never hesitated to shine. In my delusional fantasy and secret inner world, I could be free from mortal dogmas, made of aberrant rules.

    Many nights I have wandered, embracing my silliness and bizarre turmoil. Foolishness was my only state of mind, and every portal could unlock for me. I wept, and I sighed, as if it were my only way to express myself. The cold night wind hushed my aching heart, filling it with fear and torment.

    The snow painted the soil with white crystalline hues, while my slumber had kept my heart from aching more copiously. I had lost the capability to listen to melodies, but all that I could hear was a fanfare chanting demise and downfall. My whimsical chimaeras had transformed into shadows and darkness.

    I had become a stranger in my own realm, which I couldn’t recognise any longer at all. I felt like I was deprived of all my delusional dreams, which I considered my only comfort and sweet haven. No candied flowers or chocolate-coated leaves prospered in my garden, which was now nothing but a land of frost and thorns.

    The reality had transmuted into a sharp sword, depriving me of every longing, for I had lost my strength to escape from that snare of descent. Melancholia burnt my heart, altering it into an everlasting torch. I encountered no compassion or tenderness, but pointed hooks of indifference and hatred.

    My heart was wrapped in thorns and quills, and it suffered copiously. Unbearable pangs crossed my body, inflicted by misery and dismay. Shallowness was prevailing, and what appeared noisier and phonier had replaced what was pure and magnificent.

    Darkness, together with the moon and the stars, was a cynical witness to every single occurrence. Silence had sealed my lips, and I was no longer able to utter a single sound. Definitely, my whimsical chimaeras were just a remote memory of my shattered mind.

    I was burying my dreams and my hope a long time ago, and fell victim to my delusional fantasies and absurd expectations. I was conscious of my decadence and that I would soon embrace my final demise. In that exquisite garden of bygone flowers, I lay in wait for my very last moment of mortal essence.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Garden Of Oblivion

    The Garden Of Oblivion

    The garden of oblivion became my secret hideaway, where I could fall into total despair, crying out all my disillusionments. A garden of frozen flowers and broken mirrors unfolded before me. Fragments of shattered mirrors sundered my heart into crystal shards, which the moonlight illuminated with all its splendour.

    I was a forsaken creature lost in my trail of lost passions and abandoned to my loneliness. I wandered like a dead soul without any aim to survive since I had lost all my treasures and nothing more was important to cherish. So, cast away from the other worlds, I sought haven in this surreal realm of my own invention.

    Love was a perfect stranger to me since my past existences, when utopian trees and flowers surrounded me all the time with their intoxicating scents and bright colours, leaving sweet caresses in my heart. In this period of shadows, I have become just a relic of myself.

    I wandered astray through labyrinths inhabited by ghosts and wraiths, whose claws, merciless as daggers, clasped my dreams. My turmoil rose each night quickly, as soon as I stared into the gloomy emptiness of the ocean and screamed at it with all my untamed acrimony.

    Wandering infinitely among shards of capricious desires and withered flowers, in the realm of shadows and dismay, was all that remained to me. I was a part of that world of doom and oblivion, although all that I desired was to be in an idyllic kingdom of delights and sparkling luminaries.

    The garden of oblivion claimed me like one of its creatures, having lost my heart, which had disappeared into the abyss of oblivion, while I cried tears made of grief and sorrow. My tragic fate had deprived me of everything, and no longing was evermore granted to me.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • My Enchanted Nights

    My Enchanted Nights

    My enchanted nights passed one by one, like creatures perishing and being reborn, melting into a single, unique, and everlasting night. I fell in love, time and again, with monsters in the guise of magnificent and exquisite angels. I spent my endless nights casting spells and magic upon mortal spirits.

    I felt enraged and resentful as my heart was pounding in all its fury, like a winter storm at full might. My scorched heart had been repeatedly broken and torn into fragments of darkness. I cried and wailed in vain into the emptiness of the nocturnal sky, where I couldn’t see any stars.

    I was dressed in dismay and grief, while the shadows of my beloved darkness wrapped me in their ethereal veil. I beseeched all the ghosts of my imaginary realm to set me free from the anguish and pangs I was condemned to bear in my sorrowful heart.

    In my enchanted nights, I was intoxicated by magic potions and mystic spells, wondering if there was some manner to flee my infamous fate, unsure as I felt myself in that absolute silence that enveloped me inexorably.

    Hindered by enchanting melodies and beguiling rhymes that echoed in my mind, I became a part of the magical maelstrom that dragged me into the abyss of swoon and oblivion. I had metamorphosed into a creature that was beyond the rule of the mortal world.

    My enchanted nights imbued me with chaos and stardust, inducing me to fall apart and renounce all the dreams I once cherished in my heart. So much was I doused with poison and witchcraft that I had forsaken my anguish.

    I had always been tormented by dreadful premonitions, as I was doomed to perish in decay and obliteration. My bygone, enchanted nights, made of glimmering stars, were nothing but faraway reveries.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Sparkles Of Sadness

    Sparkles Of Sadness

    Sparkles of sadness manifested in the gloomy forest of my dreams. Lulled by a torpor of defeat and annihilation, I attempted to traverse a place unknown to me, with astonishment and wonder, yet, at the same time, with a heart steeped in sadness.

    Although the silver moon illuminated this unknown and dark forest, the further I proceeded, the more it seemed that I was losing myself in oblivion and in the abyss of my fears and uncertainties, for it was there that I was rooted; my heart was torn by a sense of suspension into the void.

    Indeed, I was overwhelmed by my nightmares, which slowly revealed themselves in the shapes of ghosts and wraiths, as I proceeded along my uncertain path without a clear destination. My gentle pains, which scourged my heart and disturbed my mind, rendered me powerless in the face of such apparitions.

    Even unwillingly, I had fallen victim to a vicious and infamous game of which I was not the author. And I could not even, powerless as I was, awaken from that fatal torpor, which was defeating me every night, as well as the wind consumes even the most unyielding rock.

    However much I struggled to oppose the oblivion that sought to obliterate me and erase my name, I could find no hold, no aid that might pull me out of those circumstances of affliction and decay. My heart was lacerated and it shed all my hopes like a raging cascade.

    Weeping and pain were the only faithful companions that followed me everywhere. In this realm of sepulchral silence and the sighs of souls that could find no peace, I remained still, awaiting my metamorphosis.

    Ghostly and drowsy, I could no longer proceed and I fell beneath the weight of my own anguish, as if it were made of gigantic, menacing clouds bearing down upon me. And thus I vanished, leaving nothing but a trail of sparkles of sadness and scarlet petals, as if I had never been born, as if no one had ever known that I had existed.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • My Delight Was My Demise

    My Delight Was My Demise

    My delight was my demise. My desires, so bitter and dark, gripped my heart, conquering it with all their vehemence, and all my most secret desires crumbled like shards of crystal upon the frozen, sorrowful ground.

    Alas, misery had granted me a fate in which I was a sacrificial prey. And yes, I had no escape from my cruel destiny. However much I loved the fondness and delight of a chimerical existence made of dreams and delicate flowers.

    Reneged by mortals and secluded within my dark and comfortless vault, I sought refuge in my fantasy, while my withered soul was doused in sorrow. I strove to forget all my most hidden and forbidden desires, but their memories left an imprint on my heart.

    I wept and shed as many tears as there were saline water drops in the infinite ocean that stretched far away from me, since I was not granted the privilege of beholding it from my dark refuge, nor was I allowed to see the stars.

    A lugubrious existence had become my fatal destiny. My only companions were my perpetual candles, which illuminated my gloomy chamber, merely to remind me of my anguish, my dismay, and my despondency.

    Ghosts of the past spied on me, casting shadows upon the ancient walls, dilapidated by the storms. The echo of my sighs reached the stars, which gazed at me with cynicism and indifference, as if I were unworthy of their devotion, while dark and menacing clouds reminded me of my defeat.

    While scattered feelings bounced within my torn and apathetic heart, menacing shadows embodied my fears and my most obscure secrets, which I would never have been able to reveal to any soul.

    Therefore, between surrender and fatal torpor, I lay inert, as though I were a marble statue. In all my fragility and in all my vulnerability, I knew that what awaited me was nothing but the doom of my heart, my essence, my very self. A total obliteration and oblivion were my final destination.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Path Of Perdition And Chimaeras

    The Path Of Perdition And Chimaeras

    The path of perdition and chimaeras had become the centre of my past existence
    Having lost myself a million times and having found a new version of myself each time
    I was a creature of transformation and a cyclic universe
    So cast astray I was that I couldn’t recognise myself oftentimes
    It’s too difficult to define and confine ourselves in a label and a box
    Definitely, I never succeed in such a task differently from other mortals

    I was made of fractures and wholeness
    I was made of sadness and merriment
    I was made of splendour and decay
    I was made of beauty and darkness
    I was made of shells and the ocean
    I was made of the infinite and stars

    Nevertheless, I came to a point of no return
    Where I couldn’t go back or appear under the previous shape
    I had become a new creature belonging to the realm of transformation and death
    My pitiful soul was just a dead star that had fallen from the night sky

    I couldn’t recognise myself even if I did desire it so much
    All the mirrors in front of me seemed black as soon as I stared at their sleek surfaces
    Oh, the pathetic anguish I was feeling in my heart!
    Nothing could have alleviated it!
    A stone flower was inside myself
    While I’ve got lost in the labyrinth of thoughts and fears

    And now I was resting on my dried and pale tears made of dust
    Everything appeared so lousy and loud to my delicate eyes
    The world that the mortals had built was too much for me
    And I felt an evanescent feeling of despair and pain

    The path of perdition and chimaeras could have been the product of my imagination
    Or maybe it was just one of my several hallucinations that haunted my dreams
    I will never know it!
    Elisabetta

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