Rising of the Phoenix
Like a delicate fragment of a mere memory sluggishly slipping away from existence, he felt himself fading away into nothingness. Perhaps he always had it coming. After all, who would he be if he hadn’t made the mistakes he committed? Who would he be if he somehow perfected the art of living? His demise was inevitable, like that of the remnants of a crackling bonfire.
However, that never meant that he wouldn’t leave this life without grace. Elegance was but one of the numerous things he had pride in for acquiring. This life has burdened him with mortifying miseries, morbid melancholies, a sorrowful soul and a furious fire raging blindly and erratically within the pit of his stomach.
Oh, the world had been so cruel to him.
Taking one blow after another must have taken its toll on him, for although he remained strong, and soldiered on through the horrors the world inflicted upon him, he still felt himself slowly, but surely, slipping away and moulding into the air surrounding him. He no longer felt his own physical presence. The numbness had grasped control over his fatigued body, and his mind was flickering, its engine running out of fuel steadily.
But he intended to stay until his very last breath.
He knew what it was like to spend so many hours into the night, thinking relentlessly of every little thing that might go wrong in his life, for his massive apprehension towards the world pummelling him, was truly powerful. Was he overthinking? Perhaps. However, whether he knew so or not, he made no move to stop it. He was far too weak now.
He also knew what it was like to fidget in your spot, feeling tremendously uncomfortable in your surroundings, and wanting nothing more than to curl up into a corner and be left alone. His rapid, ragged breaths proved difficult to suffice in breathing sufficiently, and he led himself into the tantalisingly welcoming embrace of anxiety.
What about trust? Did he ever trust anyone enough to confide in them? Maybe he did, once or twice — but where are they now? Are they even there for him anymore? Do they remember him?
He felt so inexplicably lost, wandering through life aimlessly, and accepting every inconvenience that came his way, for he was quite accustomed to it by now, and was already too numb to even process what he was going through.
One thing he did know, however, was that this was not going to last.
None of it will.
No matter how long the emotional struggle is, or the physical, it always has an end. It always has a solution. The light at the end of the tunnel is always there. It was waiting for him to walk towards it.
How can he get better if he won’t even try? How can he free himself of his own, personal taunts if he cannot comprehend this beautifully bright light that is encouraging him to walk towards it?
The first step to overcome anything in life is to acknowledge the fact that you want to overcome it. And he shall not allow his struggles to callously swallow him whole. So, he fluttered his wings and escaped from the ashes of what was once his burdens, spread those wings of his and soared high up into the midnight sky, and let himself finally understand what it’s like to live.
After all, a phoenix always rises back from its ashes, stronger than ever, and never has it ever felt more alive in its infinite lifetimes.
