Torment

Lying in a tiny puddle of her own tears, she wondered what she did wrong? She wondered why she was in this room. Why did she choose this room again? Why never the other one? Her finely woven light blue dress was curved in a way reminiscent of a used towel thrown on the floor. She felt like a towel when she was thrown into this room. As the door slammed behind her, she could not hold back the tears, she hated this room. She knew, no matter how hard she resisted, she had to eventually open her eyes…but that pain was unfathomable. It was far worse than the scorching walls which radiated so much heat that it felt like her skin would start to peel off. This was one of the weird things about this room. She knew that the skin never came off, it just felt that way. This room was almost designed to be the perfect torture chamber.

Peeking through her closed eyes, just enough to be able to make sense of her environment, she tried to find the only chair in the room. Opening her eyes would sear the corneas and leave her with more agony. The outline of the chair reminded her of a pincushion. The only difference was that all the pins were turned upside down and they were so densely stacked, that it looked like the chair was only constructed using these prickly pins. She knew that those pins were far worse than the walls. She had to accept the fact that she had to sit on it. Something told her that is was the only escape from this room. She fumbled around trying to reach the chair, the heat driving her insane. Her mind was in turmoil. She knew that she had to sit on this chair. She also knew that the moment she sat down on the chair, the horrific torture would get worse. Hesitantly dragging her whole being closer to this object of anguish, she sat down. The innocence in her indigo eyes immediately turned dark. This defense was inevitable. She was, after all, only doing what she was able to, to try and numb the pain. The pins penetrated right through her dress and into the skin as if the fabric barrier was not even there. The pain perfectly matched the expectation. As the needle points perpetually played their part, poking on each and every pore in the skin, she wanted to scream. She could not. Her emotional mind was nullified through the pain. It was almost like her voice was the sail and her emotions were the wind. The wind was dead…

Beyond the dark cloud eclipsing her mental light, she heard a very sadistic chuckle. Not knowing how or why, she tried to imagine what the face would look like on the other side of that disturbing sound. Even under these bizarre, blissless circumstances, her mind managed to conjure an image that linked to that thought. The image nearly made her faint…

It was her own face, only a version of it that looked like it was covered with black snakeskin. Seeing this part of herself, feeling the reality of it, made her feel disgusting and downtrodden. The more she tried to push it away, the more the whole room retaliated and made all the pain worse. The heat was incinerating her flesh, the pins persecuting her skin and filling her mind with flooding images of her dark self. She could not run from or destroy it. She also realized that this dark part of herself would never go away out of its own accord. The more she increased the ferocity of her escape attempt, the stronger the other part seem to become. It was a useless battle. She fought and screamed, jerked and twisted, violently shaking her head as if the pain was water and shaking her head would make the droplets bounce away. Finally, she had no more strength left, her inner flame was extinguished. Acceptance rolled over her whole being. This part was never going to go away. She would be tormented and tortured by it, forever…


How many of us feel like this and get thrown into an emotional room of pain, regret, guilt and fear. We would all choose the other room, but we rarely do so. We give in to our darker selves and let that part take over. Fighting it every step of the way… Accept that we live in a dualistic reality and to have our positive and negative traits fight each other, will never lead to peace. Realize that the part of you that throws yourself in this room can also throw yourself in the other room, but there is a place beyond these two rooms. Like Rumi said:

“Beyond our ideas of right-doing and wrong-doing,there is a field. I’ll meet you there”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *