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A Gramme is Better Than a Damn.

So I finally reached the black hole I’ve been seeing lately. I didn’t run away from it this time, even though I was continuously stricken with a numbing fear, the closer I moved toward it. Don’t be such a baby. That’s what the voices kept saying, among many other things, effectively peer pressuring me into walking into that stupid black hole. Well, I did it. I finally floated into it. I didn’t run away from it this time. I gently floated into it. And when I did, I couldn’t breathe. Everything was dark. I felt like a vacuum was sucking the oxygen out of my lungs before I could even utilize it. I assumed that this is what dying felt like, so I accepted my punishment for being stupid enough to go through with this. And as my consciousness unraveled, I revisited my unruly past. Me: a four year old child poking the insides of an electrical outlet with a dirty bobby pin I found on the floor. Me: a seven year old experimenting with cooking by trying to make spaghetti out of leftover pizza sauce and partially cooked ramen noodles because mom still enjoyed sleeping during the day and partying at night. Me: and eight year old man, walking up to my mother and stepfather, asking them to sign a contract promising them to not break up with each other. Me: a nine year old man riding in my stepfather’s car to the babysitters wondering where mom is, when she’s coming home, and why nobody can get in touch with her. And suddenly I was enveloped in a blinding light, so powerful that I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s piercing photons penetrated my skin. And the voices. The voices everywhere. Serpent. Trust. Divinity. Futility. Emotion. Destruction. Behave. Loser. Love. Confusion. Calculate the entropy… In the midst of them torturing me, the voices abruptly faded away. They were gone. And suddenly, the sepia filter that my eyes involuntarily placed over everything that was presented in front of me for the last decade of my life was gone. I felt a strange solace as excitement danced along my skin. I could breathe again. I found what was on the other side of the black hole. My sanity was on the other side of the black hole. The voices. The tension. The gravity. The confusion. The depression. The hopelessness. The psychosis. It all slid off of my skin like melting butter. I was fixed. Maybe they were right.

DANTE PLUSH