The dark toxic tunnel is one which we will all come across in the long twisted paths of our lives. And whilst some cruise, leisurely, through the tunnel, with their strength creating a shield around them, allowing them to easily drive through with the blinding light, at the end, guiding their way. Some others never make it through the tunnel, the blinding light becoming shrouded with anxiety and the tunnel becoming too dark for them to escape from. Some think those few are just the ones who have gotten too tired of trying and that have given up. But these aren’t the people who have simply given up but those who aren’t strong enough to keep going because they’ve been trying for too long, those who life has drained any remanence of strength out of. We all at some point contemplate about which person we are and which one we want to be when entering the tunnel.

But which one am I?

I’m the one who has lost hope in finding the light because once you long to find something which you hopelessly search for and all you end up finding is darkness you begin to lose the image of the blinding light in your head and start to let the darkness consume you.

I’m the one who’s not strong enough to keep on walking endlessly through the tunnel and who instead wanders round hopelessly longing for something, for someone to come and save me. But what happens if that person comes, ideally my own superman would swoop in, shattering the tunnel with his superhuman strength, letting the light shine through. But Realistically, my unknown ‘hero’ could kindly drag me with them to the end of the tunnel and let me stand on the edge staring longingly at the light, clarifying the lost image in my head, reminding me that there’s still hope but they can’t fix the permanent damage I’ve done myself, they can’t fix the hole inside me which is constantly growing, like a black hole sucking the happiness out of activities, objects and people that used to bring me happiness, that used to help distract me from the confining tunnel of life which I am unwillingly trapped in. Despite all this I’m still wandering round the tunnel, through the darkness not letting the black hole consume me fully. Why? Why am I gripping on so tightly, forcing myself to keep going through the tunnel when it causes me such pain, when it snatches anything from me which helps distract from this dark, twisted, toxic tunnel? Because in this tunnel I met a few people, with souls lighter than the blinding light ,which they could all see at the end of the tunnel,  who vowed that when I made it through they’d be there waiting for me in the light. They all tried their hardest to get me through the tunnel, attempting to lift my spirit with their soothing words, to raise my self-worth with their sweet compliments and to secure the idea of hope in my mind before they soon left the tunnel. I do not want to disappoint those people, those very few who stuck around long enough to hear my story, who willingly offered to bear the pain I’ve been carrying on my weak shoulders for too long, I don’t want to leave them with any chance of sprouting thoughts which could begin to convince them that they could’ve done more and that its their fault I finally let go.

So instead I wander through the tunnel, debating the concept of life, attempting to convince myself that breathing is easy and how we’re all expected to just exist and that maybe I have some strength left in me to do so. However occasionally I stop breathing, trying to catch a glimpse of what it would feel like to finally let go, asking myself whether it’s easier not to breathe.