Stampede

Philipp Fontao_da_Silva_Vida

by Philipp Fontao_da_Silva_Vida

Story
Vienna 2021 – 2023

I sensed that there was something wrong. Something really, really wrong – with me. I didn’t show anything anymore because after seeing people’s reactions, the disbelief and pity when I actually did, made me wish I never had. And, I couldn’t share this conclusion either and how much it actually made all situations worse.

So, the tears turned inwards and flooded my body that way. Flooding all cells and organs, flushing them one after another. Rising higher and higher to a point where I had a hard time catching my breath. Feeling the panic on the inside – constantly. Perfectly tense and always alert. Always having the feeling of losing control and trying to stay up float and trying not to sink.

I was scared of completely losing control over my life since: Everyone makes their own luck. I always thought being vulnerable would show the human side of me, showing that we are not alone and that we share the same hurt and pain just on different levels and intensities. But, by showing my vulnerability, all there I achieved was making myself the target. And so, when I could, I would take things back and say I’m sorry, reassuring myself of the good where there actually was none and say I’m fine, when I clearly wasn’t. 

With that tear level rising so did the feeling of frustration. The frustration of always wondering Why bother trying? And with that, also drowning the hope of the once believed in idea that it could be different. Yet again, it wasn’t, and it wouldn’t seem to be happening anytime soon. Not then. Not now. Never.

I knew that imagining one’s own death is how one copes with the potential and the inevitable passing of one’s own. Thinking about the uncertainty on how it would happen, when or even the question, if one could avoid it and beat it to the punch and consequently cheat death. So, every now and then, within me, questions would arise like: Will I be able to cross the street before that car hits me?, or If the building is on fire, would I make it out alive?

You know, that feeling of hearing those hooves approaching and not automatically be thinking of horses – of the apocalypse. Rather hearing those hooves and be thinking of donkeys. But, in the end, it didn’t really matter because in both cases, it was a stampede. And so, every now and then, those thoughts about death were present. Every now and then, these questions would elbow themselves to the front line of my hippocampus, the battlegrounds of Everything.

More often than I would come to find funny and more often than I would have liked to admit. I never really had the ability of picturing things because those grounds were flooded by thoughts about struggles and fights too. I would always need a reference point to focus on, since there was no time to think about something else.

No time to waste, no time to be weak and no time for imagination to run wild. I could never see clearly, I lacked the necessary spirit. But I could see, envision my own death very vividly, I could even feel it so strongly that my body would react to it as if it would be happening – Right then. Right now. Always.

© Philipp Fontao_da_Silva_Vida 2023-08-17

Genres
Self-help & Life support, Biographies
Moods
Challenging, Emotional, Informative, Inspiring, Reflective
Hashtags