My defintion of despair (grade pending)
Brandon Lopez
Let’s work through this backwards starting from a bullet lodged in a wall. This bullet is smoking hot, and is the epicenter of a strange array of red splatter marks. Only milliseconds before this bullet was flying through skull, leaving an exit wound far larger than the entry one. The tiniest tick of a tock before that, the bullet was safely nestled inside the chamber of a gun, innocent and harmless. The gunmen had just put the gun against his/her head, preparing to die. Why? Was there a nasty break up? Was here an investigation into alleged money embezzlement? Simple depression? Was a lost job? Sure, maybe, whatever. Honestly I don’t care about the specifics. It all boils down to one thing. Despair is the force that exists as the ultimate intangible avatar for evil and all that is unholy and sufferable. Ending your life is the final and drastic result of this said phenomenon.
We all know the word, and we’ve bled it through tears and gave it life through sobbing and crying and screaming. We were born crying, despaired to of left the womb, the only thing we ever knew. Safety and innocence raped from us as we were brought into the world, and our first instinct is to wail out in despair.
It’s true that not all of us die in despair, some are hit by trucks and killed instantly, and some die peacefully in sleep. Whether or not the bullet finds its way through the tormented’s skull is irrelevant, though I think we all know the severity of despair and its effects on us, and others. Despair in itself is a bullet, shredding our brains into a heap of horrible feelings that seem to never end. Sometimes it lasts weeks and blossoms into depression. For anyone in a bad place though, despair is like a lifetime of frowns compressed into a moment. It turns every second into an internal torment, truly hell on earth. Perhaps that’s why God threw this emotion into the mix when he created us, to give us a glimpse of the other side, of hell itself and no means to understand it.
No matter where we look in society, explanations for despair and its brother in arms, suffering, are sought after and analyzed. Existentialism strikes a cord within me, and I like the idea that separation from others creates a void that suddenly appears when we exist (and are thrust from the womb). And this void is a vast empty space, infinite and dark, that creates a chasm where are souls are kept from one another. We as humans are constantly seeking companionship and love and friends all to fill this void, to find peace and comfort and happiness in a world that often can be cruel and wicked and lonely. It’s this battle where wounds are opened and inside we do not bleed out, but instead we find despair floods in and with it, alienation, loneliness and melancholy.
Think of a happy day, while I think mine. I awoke, and noticed she who will not be named lying next to me. She awakes too, as if my state of mind affects hers. She stares at me, with the covers pulled up past her nose as if she is peeking at me. Her eyes are beautiful and blue, and I can see myself in them. I’m smiling. I say hello and good morning, and pull her closer. Hours later we are filled with contentment of just laying about, talking and giggling and laughing and loving. We make plans for the day. We see eat a late lunch, we see a movie, we get ice cream, we do a little sight seeing, we come home, we socialize with my roommates, we make love, we are inseparable. The void does not exist in these conditions. Love connects us and there is no space between us to open ugly rifts of separation.
Now, let’s imagine everything falling a part. For me this is easy, because it has. I awake and my alarm blares at me telling me to get ready for school. I don’t need to look over; I can sense I’m alone. My insides curl up inside me, betraying me before I even get a chance to get dressed. My body aches and my face flushes with heat that I know is a prelude to tears. I suck it up; I get dressed and head out the door. It’s a beautiful day but everything is ugly in my eyes because I see through the lens of despair. The world’s sunny day is my cloudy overcast. I go to school and everything reminds me of her. The girl I lost, the girl who left me, the girl who broke my heart is in my head dancing with despair, and through that perception she is in everything and everywhere. I exist as a shell of my former self, so committed I am to battling despair so that I can function on basic human levels. I watch despair lead me like the bullet’s lead traveled through my head. I want to reach out, but despair blankets me with the void. I can’t touch people, and they can’t touch me. I’m not invisible, but I’m a mental leper and I know it’s best to leave the world well enough alone. How does the world look with everything loved and cherished gone? It’s a far cry from days filled with contentment and happiness.
For every smile in life, a frown is just as inevitable. Everything gained can easily be lost. To lose is to face despair. To hurt is to face despair. Every negative act in life puts you face to face with the force that can break your will and make you hurt as if a bullet is sending pieces of your skull through your brain and against the wall, mangling it with violent degenerative force. Every moment of awareness is a fight to lift the burden. And not paying attention gets a person blindsided. Despair is always out there waiting for its victims. It’s in every beautiful rose slowly wilting. It’s in every shine starting to rust. It’s a falling leaf. It’s an “I love you but I’m not in love with you”. It’s reality’s dark shadow. It’s in every cell breaking down unto old age. We are dying every second of every day. It just takes close to a century to finally lose.
To be honest, it rarely results in a literal bullet through the head, self-inflicted. But it does result in every frown I’ve ever seen on your face or mine. In it, we found the worst in ourselves. But it’s through this horrible blight that we see the light so clearly. From below, the sunny side seems far away and almost unreachable, but when you rise, being able to make that comparison gives joy more meaning than any smile ever could. I can describe why I frown with ease, but when I’m happy… you’ll never see me writing or thinking bout it. I don’t have the time to die slowly, I’m too busy living and trying to forget the hammer is cocked and ready to go once I lose again.