Paradise Lost

*The story touches on sensitive themes such as betrayal, addiction, self harm, despair, and emotional turmoil.*

" For I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more". ( Hebrews 8:12)

Monday( 2:30 PM, Circle II)

Once more,I awaken bathed in sweat, ensnared by a dream of you. The guide through infernal circles, where I've lost track of my place, yet know I'm astray. A familiar number summons, its voice wrenching my gut 180 degrees. As the phone rings incessantly, I steel myself against the inevitable confrontation, knowing that behind each ring lies a barrage of accusations and recriminations. Finally, I relent, answering with trembling hands and heavy heart. " You deceitful witch", it accusses, its tone far from gentle, "you've betrayed me again, every word I've heard". I sever the connection, hoping to end years of tortment. Promised paradise, yet all I've reaped is pain, a naïve child's unwarranted lot. The blinds remain shut, the world's light too harsh, a blinding white canvas where I seek solace, caressing the silent Xanax beckoning me persistently.

"Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven." (Luke 6:37)

Tuesday(12:00 PM, Circle V)

Traffic's light jolts me awake, collisions echoing within. I raced heedlessly, adrenaline's thrall, now captive to tranquilizers. I detest my sinful side, ensnared by you, warned that love's hold surpasses even cocaine's grip. Somethimes, I yearn for illusion, devoid of lacerations, internal rending, bone-shattering agony. I converse with shadows, contemplating a trip to the market for sustenance. As I navigate the bustling aisles, the fluorescent lights glaring down, I am a ghost among the living. Each product on the shelves whispers promises of satisfaction, yet I remain hollow, my hunger unsated by material indulgence. Amidst the sea of faces, I am a solitary figure adrift, seeking solace in the anonymity of the crowd.

"If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from unrighteousness." ( John 1:9)

Wednesday( 5:00PM, Circle III)

Awakening, I feel my essence unravelling. Yesterday's haze clouds my memory, yet whiskey's lingering embrace remains. Concealing the emptied vessel, I shun reminders of the night past. Vivaldi's Four Seasons cascade, a tribute to forgotten joys. Midnight skriles, prompting a choice: venture to the 24-hour market or linger in the interstice of right and desire. As the night deepens, I find myself wandering aimlessly through deserted streets, the echoes of my footsteps the only companions to my wandering thoughts. Each shadow cast by the flickering streetlights whispers of hidden truths, urging me to confront the darkness within. Yet, I am a reluctant traveler in this nocturnal odyssey, a prisoner of my own indecision.

"But who can discern their own errors?Forgive my hidden faults." ( Psalm 19:32)

Thursay ( 9:00 AM, Circle IX)

Ears pierced by a recurring lament, "Just Give Me a Reason," a decade's refrain.Forgotten are coffee dates and self-reflection, eclipsed by the abyss within. One missed rendezvous forgiven, though it marks the tenth. Yet, forgiveness extends beyond coffee. Once, I yearned for comprehension as I understood the incomprehensible, touched the intangible, beheld the invisible, loved the unlovable. Whiskey, my sanctuary, poses no inquiries, its solace sought in moments of anguish. As the morning sun casts long shadows across the landscape, I find myself standing at the precipice of redemption, the promise of forgiveness lingering on the horizon. But as the echoes of past transgressions reverberate through my mind, I am reminded that absolution comes at a price, one I may not be willing to pay.

"All the prophets testify about him that everyone who believes in him receives forgivness of sins through his name." (Acts 10:43)

Friday(1:01 PM, Cirlcle VIII)

A knock resounds, he arrives bearing white roses, symbols of purity. Tremors seize me, breaths shorten, pulses quicken. Trauma echoes in my rejection, yet he persists, seeking only absolution. "Your eyes," he murmurs, "a sea of blue merging into green, captivating for eternity." Tears flow freely as I gaze into his dark pools, love's harbinger. As he stands before me, the weight of his presence suffocating, I catch glimpses of our shared past—moments of laughter, whispers of love, and promises of forever. But beneath the veneer of affection lies a labyrinth of deceit and betrayal, a tangled web of half-truths and broken promises. With each tender gesture, he spins a new thread of deception, weaving a narrative of redemption and forgiveness that I desperately long to believe. But deep within the recesses of my mind, doubts linger like shadows, casting doubt on the sincerity of his intentions. As he leans in to kiss away my tears, I feel a surge of conflicting emotions—love mingled with resentment, longing tempered by suspicion. In that fleeting moment of vulnerability, I yearn to surrender to his embrace, to bury the pain of the past beneath the facade of reconciliation.This time, I surrender, relinquishing my burdens to him.

"Then I acknowledged my sin to you and did not cover up my iniguity. I said, 'I will confess my transgressions to the Lord.' And you forgave the guilt of my sin." (Psalm 32:5)

Saturday (10:00 AM, Circle VII )

Eyes flutter open to chaos, shards of shattered illusions scattered. Silence reigns, devoid of music's balm, amidst disarray. Absence pervades, devoid of roses' purity. Dialogue with shadows resumes, torment's cycle perpetuated. In this ninth circle, recollections flood, betrayals laid bare. A gambler by nature, I wagered on self-love, forever ensnared by my own design. Shattered glass bears witness as whiskey's solace soothes internal wounds, a testament to enduring pain. Locked away under the key, a bottle of whiskey serves as both comfort and captor, a hidden truth in this labyrinth od the mind. But beneath the surface of my fractured reality lies a darker truth- a truth too sinister to confront, too painful to acknowledge, a hounting reminder of the ultimate price of jealousy and despair.

Sunday (7:00 AM, Purgatory)

Sanctuary's doors part, unveiling pristine walls, a stark contrast to the blood-stained floor. A life extinguished, a soul adrift in chaos, a diagnosis deemed unbearable. Time surrenders at 1:11, as voices lament a soul's departure, lost to the depths of despair. With trembling hands and tear-stained cheeks, I face my reflection in the shattered remnants of a mirror. In a moment of agonizing clarity, I reach for the shard of broken glass, it's jagged edge a glimmering beacon of liberation. With one final breath, I find release, my final act a whispered farewell to a world consumed by darkness. Or I didn't?