"Have you ever been so full that you tipped over and spilled out? And then you were completely empty?" The question rolled around in her mind like a plaque of quizzes interrogating her. She had other things that she wanted to think about. There were other mysteries that beckoned to her inquisitive mind. But this was the imposing deliberation that wandered through the hallways inside her head.
She took a deep breath in and then exhaled slowly and with intent. Reflecting back over what seemed to be eaons, she pulled the files of each memory that built her up, filled her up and made her feel like she had attained another piece of the puzzle that was her. She remembered the smallest notions to the deepest encounters. She made a special note of the most extreme situations that she had embraced as the fillers of her soul. There was the time she laid on the ground with a fallen soldier after the bullets had struck him in the chest. She had put her hand on his shoulder and whispered comforts to him softly until the medics could arrive. She shuddered when she re-lived all the blood that had gotten on her; so much blood. She also remembered prostituting herself to care for her young ones. She found it ironic that she found fulfillment in this portion of her life, but she had never sacrificed so much of herself for something so selfless in her life. She was in an impossible situation and made things possible by selling her flesh to the men and women who desired to purchase her for a moment. She also remembered caring for more than one family member while they slipped out of this life and into the next. It tore her heart to pieces to live day in and day out on little to no sleep while her loved ones suffered, moaned, and became nothing more than hollow husks. She reflected back on seasons of her life, extorting her own memories, and it was like an ocean; so much turbulence, so many waves, so many feats, so many victories. So unpredictable.
But all the fulfillments from the least to the greatest, what were they all worth? Everything was in vain. All is vanity. There was no point to any of it. One day she would leave this existence and go on into the next one. She believed that she could only take her experiences with her and nothing else, but to avail what? What was it all good for? She felt herself writhe in frustration and an angry energy coursed through her veins. She felt like she was going to explode and she wanted to take it all out on someone, something, anyone or anything. Because after being emptied out, after all her good was spilled, the emptiness enveloped her. And nothing mattered. Nothing.
If she decided to sew a dress, it would be tattered and thrown away eventually. If she crafted a bowl, it would break. If she planted a garden, it would be consumed and gone or whither and die. If she cleaned her home, it would just get dirty again. If she cared about the one no one cared about, they wouldn't care about her. If she wrote songs and poems, the paper would crumble and turn to dust. If she strung beads, the strand would break and they would spill on the ground. If she loved someone, they would die. Any of the ifs she contemplated and conjured up in her mind all became tragedies in the end, because in the end, everything is a tragedy. And this in itself was a tragedy.
She struggled to figure out how to go on in life. If it's all in vain, and everything ends up in tragedy eventually, then how could she endure it all? If she was empty, and she knew that even if she filled up again, she would only be emptied out again, then what could she do? Her tormented mind scratched itself with sharp metal claws of suffering and inside her heart cold stone etched itself with chisels of sadness. She wanted to crumple on the floor and slip away into nothingness like a star that burns out.
Aside from her deep, dark, self-martyring cloud of consumption inside of her, a flame of Truth kept burning and the halls in her head were thoroughly lit. She felt like destroying someone, but knew it was not The Way. She wanted to scream like a banshee and squash someone's soul, but knew that the Light would not accept her actions. She knew that she wanted to rip apart and shred and slash beauty and life, but the Life Bringer was alive inside of her and comforted her and whispered life and love into her soul. Even if all was in vain, she was not permitted to quit or self-destruct or implode or explode. She simply was. If she was full, then, she was. If she was empty, then, she was. If she was alive, then, she was. And on and on, she realized one thing. She was. She just...was. And that would have to do for now.
