The Clarity of Blurred Vision

­­­Clarity was the first thing I felt when I woke up. My view, once worn and dim was now refreshed and optimistic. A long breath escaped my lungs that released a pressure I didn’t remember the cause of. I looked around the white room I was in, oddly enough it gave a sense of purity rather than the stereotypical clinical feel. A small folded piece of paper sat against the lamp on my bedside table, it was the only thing in the room that did not belong. I unfolded the paper and inspected it closely. I recognised my writing but could not locate the memory of actually writing it. I was intrigued. The letter was only small, but it didn’t need to be long.

Don’t go looking for the past, you may not remember why you are here but no good can come out of remembering. The future awaits you, us, me? Be stronger, be kinder, be better. Don’t pull down the wall that separates us. My past is not yours.

I stood from the bed, leaving the letter behind. I had every intention to listen to the letter. Why wouldn’t I? I did this to myself. I had a good reason, not that I remember. That was beside the point, the future was out there, my future. I walked out of the room and was greeted by two technicians, all I needed to do was sign some papers and my future would be anything I wanted. Hope and excitement filled my body. I quickly signed the papers and bid my farewell. I never would have thought that by simply stepping outside I would feel so fresh and new. I briefly wondered if babies felt this way about experiencing the outside world for the first time. A warm breeze hit my face and I closed my eyes to just experience it. It was peaceful and I couldn’t help but smile.

I turned to head home when a young lady walked over to me. She had a light purple dress on that fell to her feet. I had an eerie rush of déjà vu as I observed her.

“You had no right to do this. You think you’re the only one with pain?” A tear slipped down her cheek and I noticed she clutched a partly crumpled piece of paper. A deep feeling of dread took over my peacefulness. I didn’t know who she was but I knew that I must have in the past.

“I’m sorry but I don’t know who you are. The past is behind me now and that’s where I want it to stay.” Maybe my past self was a coward for not wanting to deal with whatever pain he was dealing with but shouldn’t I get to have a good future? I wasn’t him and surely the positive out-weighed the negative? I was being given a real chance at happiness. My emotions were surging and now I was confused, scared, I didn’t want to lose this chance.

“You are a selfish human being.” Her hatred for me was tactile. Her eyes blazed with raw, painful anger. “You won’t ever escape what happened. Not really. You’ll feel it and it’ll all come back. Like you use to say, hell is imminent for a person like you.” She spat the words at me, surely hoping they would burn. I felt guilty that they didn’t. She shoved the paper into my chest, instinctively I grabbed it. “You’ll never see me again.” Were her last words before she walked away. I took a few shaky breaths and stepped back to lean against the building. I repeated to myself… Don’t pull down the wall, don’t pull down the wall, don’t pull down the wall. Over and over until I started to calm down. Once I was calm again, I looked at the now very crumpled paper in my hands. Like before it was marked with my handwriting, it seemed there was another note from my former self. I wasn’t sure if I should read it. What if it caused my wall to come tumbling down? My future would be ruined and I would be in pain.

I huffed and sat on the sidewalk, it was late afternoon and there were a few busy people shuffling past one another to get to where they were going. I was stuck, I couldn’t seem to go forward and I wasn’t able to go back. Rays of sun hit my face, warming my skin and charging my body. I felt some semblance of clarity but it was short lived. I looked at the sky pleading for that feeling once again, but I was denied. The panic and stress were returning and I chanted in my head, don’t pull down the wall, don’t pull down the wall…

I was startled when something wet hit my cheek. I swiped at the liquid and looked to the sky, the change in weather was ghastly. What use to be a mostly clear blue sky with white fluffy clouds was now just an angry grey cloud spitting water. How lucky for me.

I ran for cover, once again joining the busy people moving forward. I made it to my house, it was strange. I knew it was my house, but it didn’t feel like home. Walking down the hall I noticed pictures were missing but I could not remember what they were of. Emptiness filled me as I walked around my house, there was no connection. I didn’t know why that chair on the left was my favourite, or why I suddenly missed the green blanket that used to be haphazardly thrown on my bed.

I walked to the kitchen and sat on one of the island benches’ stools. Pulling the crumpled paper from my pocket caused a sharp pain through my chest. Maybe it was better to read it than to feel empty. Maybe it really was selfish of me to not suffer. Not knowing left me empty. The clarity I felt before was not in fact clarity at all, instead it was the first road of hell. I wanted to feel the pain desperately, it would be a much better fate than not feeling at all. I took a steadying breath before I read the letter.

I always said that hell was imminent for a person like me.

I know you won’t understand my decision and I know you won’t join me but I can’t continue to live like this, the pain, it’s too much.

I believe doing what I’m about to do will be my hell because not knowing you is like not knowing how to breathe and a part of me hopes that by doing this, I serve my sentence. Then, maybe in another life, another world with new souls, we can find each other without the pain of the past life. I want you to know that I will search for you. How could I not?

I just hope, as unfair as it is, that you will one day forgive me.

I carefully folded the paper. Tears streamed down my face before loud mournful sobs echoed through the silent house. I mourned for my past self, because I was still in hell and there was no getting out.