What if the quest for normality, peace of mind, or even health just drags you deeper into the depths of depravity? What if you become so estranged from peace that you only feel comfortable in the midst of a storm?
The only way to escape one storm is to get caught up in another. You carefully construct your next downfall in your mind and your work is done. It's never long until the fantasy becomes reality and the new storm comes into full force, absorbing every part of you that's left. You hope that this storm will bring a strike of lighting; the epiphany you've been waiting for.
In the meantime you live, trying to create a purpose for yourself in the disorientating world you've been hurtled into. No one else understands. They look at you like you belong to a different species. Maybe you do. Maybe allowing yourself to sink is the only way to rise above the rest.
The romantic allure of being a frail, ethereal, helpless creature is strong - like Rapunzel, locked away in her tower, or an endangered species, captured and protected from the dangers of the wilderness. What would it mean if you could deny yourself the necessities of human life? What would it really be like to be the delicate, fragile soul who needs to safely locked away to protect her from self-destruction?
The truth is that it doesn't give you some kind of immortal or supernatural existence. It doesn't make you stronger, prove your worth or earn you respect. You can fool yourself into thinking that you'll reach life's zenith or that you'll discover the limits of the living, but it's only a disillusioned dawdle towards death.
Even knowing that your headed for a nadir isn't enough to make you want to stop. You've gone too far. Reason is but a distant memory. The only comfort there is is the dream of discovering some kind of utopia on the other side of the storm. Delusional hope is all you've got left. If you don't cling on you'll only end up floating through the vacuum between reality and unreality. Lost in space.
The real world doesn't feel like a world you belong in anymore. 'Normality' is an alien concept. Life, while never pleasant, is never languorous. Being stranded in the midst of a tempest is the only life you know. It was never turbulence or excitement that you sought, but merely peace. It hurts more to realise that you can't feel at peace in mundane circumstances than it does to withstand torment. At least then there is hope that the storm will quell and quiet will ensue. You didn't imagine that the peace you dreamed of could drive you crazy.
What happens after you realise that you can't live with the tumult anymore, but you can't live without it either? Is is possible to call some kind of truce with the tempest or have you been sucked too far into the tornado to ever hope to emerge again?
