There was a time in my life when I saw myself write songs, poems and stories under the inspiration of one single person. And under no other inspiration in my lifetime have I ever written with such fervor, with such passion, a reckless creative passion like that of an uncaged beast.

But like most fires, they die a natural death. No matter how furiously you try to keep it ablaze, one cannot just help the fire from being reduced to ember, and then to ashes. Sometimes you wish your tears were inflammable and your bitterness a spark; that in a single scream of desperation, you conjure the flame back to life; only to watch the ashes get blown away in the rush of the deafening silence.

The fearful part is when you have found solace and sanctuary in the light, the sudden darkness is like having the ground disappear under your feet. You find yourself in a plunge that feels like death itself. A frightening fall that you wish the bottom was real, so real that you reach it, you wouldn’t feel the slightest tinge of pain; from sudden numbness to eternal nothingness.

So you move on, believing that there is still a semblance of hope at the end of the tunnel; a hope that fails to bring a salve to your uninterested soul. For a time, you listened to chocolate-coated consolations. But the only sound that seems to drive you forward is that of your feet, the impersonal sound of dragging feet. And so you drag on, one day at a time. One foot over the other; one day at a time; one foot over the other…one painful day at a time.

Want to comment on this Essays? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Essays and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...