Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: Existential Despair

  • Whimsical Chimaeras

    Whimsical Chimaeras

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

    Many nights I have wandered, embracing my silliness and uncommon 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 death and defeat. 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 stripped 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 dagger, depriving me of every longing, for I had lost my strength to escape from that snare of descent. Melancholia burnt my heart, transforming it into an everlasting torch. I encountered no compassion or tenderness, but pointed hooks that ripped me apart.

    My heart was wrapped in thorns and quills, and it bled copiously. Unbearable pangs crossed my body, reducing it to misery and dismay. Shallowness had taken over, and what appeared loudest and most false had replaced what was authentic and sublime.

    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 make a single sound. Definitely, my whimsical chimaeras were just a remote memory of my shattered mind.

    I was already buried before dying. I was buried a long time ago by the hands of my delusional fantasies and absurd expectancies. I was conscious of my decay 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 life.
    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 broken mirrors sliced my heart into bleeding shards, which the moonlight illuminated with all its grace.

    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 age of shadows, I have become just a relic of myself.

    Lost in labyrinths inhabited by ghosts and wraiths who never hesitated to grab me with their claws sharp as merciless daggers. My madness grew each night quickly, as soon as I could stare into the gloomy emptiness of the ocean and scream at it with all my feral fury.

    Wandering infinitely among shards of broken mirrors 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 possessed me like one of its creatures, having lost my heart, which had disappeared into the abyss of death, while I cried tears made of blood 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 perished one by one, like creatures dying 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 souls.

    I felt mad and sore as my heart was pounding in all its fury, like a winter storm at full might. My scorched heart had been repeatedly stabbed and torn to pieces. I cried and screamed 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, begging all the ghosts of my imaginary realm to set me free from all the anguish and pangs I was condemned to hold in my bleeding heart.

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

    Distracted by enchanting melodies and disruptive 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 transformed into a creature that refused the order of the mortal world.

    My enchanted nights imbued me with chaos and stardust, inducing me to fall apart and renounce all the dreams I had once made an oath to. So much was I steeped in poison and witchcraft that I had forsaken my promises.

    I had always been cursed by dreadful premonitions, as I was doomed to perish in decay and obliteration. My bygone, enchanted nights, made of glimmering luminaries, 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 deadly torpor, which was destroying me every night, as the wind consumes even the most unyielding rock.

    However much I struggled to oppose the oblivion that sought to annihilate me and erase my name, I could find no hold, no aid that might pull me out of that condition of misery and decay. My heart was lacerated and bled all my hopes like a raging cascade.

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

    Bloodless, exhausted, 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 blood, 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 greed, so bitter and dark, gripped my heart, crushing it with all its essence, and all my most secret desires crumbled like shards of crystal upon the frozen, sorrowful ground. Alas, misery had destined me to be its sacrificial victim. And yes, I had no escape from my cruel fate.

    However much I loved love and the delights of an existence made of dreams and gentle flowers. Reneged by mortals and secluded within my dark and comfortless crypt, I sought refuge in my fantasy, pursuing with my withered soul, steeped in sorrow, all my most hidden and forbidden desires.

    I wept and shed as many tears as there are drops in the infinite ocean that stretched far away from me, since I was not granted the privilege of beholding it from my dark alcove. Nor was I allowed to see the stars, ever again in my lugubrious existence—such was my fatal destiny.

    My only companion was my perpetual candle, which illuminated my lugubrious space, merely to remind me of my misery, my finitude, and my impotence. Ghosts of the past spied on me, casting shadows upon the decrepit 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 affection, while dark and menacing clouds reminded me of my defeat. While scattered feelings bounced within my torn and bloodless heart.

    Threatening shadows embodied my fears and my most turbid secrets, which I would never have been able to reveal to any soul. And so, between resignation and funerary torpor, I lay inert, as though I were a stone statue. In all my fragility and in all my vulnerability, I knew that what awaited me was nothing but the destruction of my heart, my essence, my very self—total obliteration and oblivion. They 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

  • Twilight Shadows

    Twilight Shadows

    Twilight shadows have haunted me since ages past,
    granting me no peace, clutching at my heart,
    seeking to offer it to their jagged, divine limbs.
    Born free, I became a slave—
    In a prison whose bars and chains
    were unbreakable and unseen,
    visible only to me,
    As I perished day by day,
    destroying every single one of my dreams.

    Their song had hypnotised and enchanted me, initially.
    Then it became a funeral symphony, a mournful song,
    which followed me everywhere and gave me no peace.
    Although I sought refuge, tried to seek refuge,
    in the most hidden hiding places of my imagination,
    these spirits of the realm of shadows and torments pursued me everywhere.

    In enchantment and in fright, I found myself in a labyrinth of confusion and madness,
    where reality was hallucination and illusions were reality.
    I could no longer discern what my will truly desired.
    I could no longer understand whether my madness was my salvation
    or my wisdom was a source of death and oblivion.

    Fear and anguish had pierced my heart, which was now torn apart and could no longer hold any hope, any pleasure;
    And so my body was covered with marks and symbols carved into my skin like arcane and profane signs,
    sometimes mystic and sometimes sacred.

    And suddenly I found myself in a dark room of mirrors and shards that wounded me everywhere and tore my garment.
    So battered, I went on, trying to find a way out. Still, in fact, the more I proceeded, the deeper I ventured into the labyrinth of a world that did not belong to me,
    but demanded me and wanted my soul and my heart, even my remains as a deceased.

    Twilight shadows had become my only destiny, imperishable, unyielding and cruel,
    from which it was impossible to escape.
    I belonged to them like a helpless and powerless creature,
    without hope of ever having a future of light and beauty.
    Elisabetta

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