This is What Hell Must Feel Like: Part III

This is what Hell must Feel like: Part III

I remember thinking to myself during this period in my life, ‘if there is a hell, I am pretty sure this is how it would feel like’.

You realise how nourishing a single pop of colour can be after being trapped between four blank walls for months – the view of a tree, a floral bouquet. I remember being shifted to a bed next to the window, and feeling such comfort and amazement at the lushness outside – the colour of trees, the colour of life.

You realise what a privilege it is to be able to eat whatever you like, whenever you wish. It is ironic when food becomes a forbidden hazard, when it is often cited as a daily necessity, or a pleasurable experience.

You realise what a blessing it is to be able to swallow without assistance and to consume solid food, after being fed a mix of mush and foul tasting juices for a prolonged period, or through a drip dispensing the bare liquids needed for survival, straight into your veins.

You realise how much skill it takes for your body to coordinate simple movements, when your legs forget how to walk after lying in bed for two months. That being able to lie flat on your back to rest at night can be the sweetest relief in life. That the unconscious shifting of positions while you sleep are not mindless movements at all; your brain is still hard at work, conducting your body to maximise well being.

You realise how fragile mortality truly is, that your strength can be forfeited with the snap of a finger. Of the seven deadly sins mine would have been pride, but that was before. I learned that such a trait is an illusion to begin with, and the level of suffering you have to endure just to maintain it isn’t worth a goddamn thing when it breaks you. Pride is just a twig between the fingers of pain; resist it as much as you want, but it was never a fair fight to begin with. Ego serves no purpose, except to prolong your own suffering.

I would say that a huge part of who I am now was redefined from this single incident, some good and others bad. While many life lessons were compressed into my brain within that short span of time, it has also left permanent scars and opened new cans of worms. But we shall speak of these matters another day.

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