The realm of dust and decay was the place where I’d been hiding all my life, hopeless and devoid of love.
A frozen spiderweb trapped me like a doomed dungeon full of wickedness, oppression and violence.
Fate hasn’t been fair enough to grant me mirth and tranquillity but instead reserved me a prison of decay and lifeless despair.
Invisible chains of control and oppression were twisted around my body, making me wish to fall into the abyss of death.
The nights were too long to keep my sanity alive, long enough to remember that I was alive.
Every night was too long to endure the chaos inside myself.
Like a storm, each day was a struggle to keep me alive without any wisdom and future sight.
Dreaming about oblivion and escape to a realm of dreams and illusions.
Dreams and fantastic tales were the only evasions from my reality that displayed brutal colours among the tedious rituals of phoney perfection.
Having lost my essence and my innocence, I became a non-living creature.
Believing that couldn’t be more different, the reality surrounding me like an ominous dark cloud.
I fell into the abyss of self-obliteration and resignation, swallowed by an undesirable fate.
Living a life at the mercy of the winds and storms.
Feeling a tiny flower floating in the vast ocean of the unknown.
Mad nightmares were constant visions, like surrealist paintings of despair.
My secrets became my only identity, kept hidden like a treasure.
As a living paradox and contradiction, I was just part of the realm of dust and decay.
And there was no escape from the labyrinth that held me captive, like a bird stripped of its wings.
And, as if in an absolute dream, I longed only to vanish into the infinite darkness, never to emerge again.
Esther Elizabeth Racah
