Eye of the storm

At night, when I lay down over the pillows, I don’t close my eyes immediately. Instead of it, I glare into the darkness and see it laying its eyes upon me back, giving me permission to focus only on the silence. Then, a voice fiercely busts inside my head like a thunder, telling me dreams I would not dare to dream by myself. Despite the high tune of it, it whispers softly, directly, abruptly… ghastly as the night itself. And it says:

I know who you really are and you can’t trick me, for I am the master trickster. I can see through you like a crystal glass so there’s no point in lying. I saw you rest your peaceful eyes in the darkness. All around you, past and future turned into chaos. In the middle of your desperation you ran away to a place where you couldn’t see it coming. You ran to the very center. You ran to the eye of the storm. Don’t matter how you feel about it, you’ll have to leave sometime and, when you do, things will get heavy. This storm you’re making will twist your foundations and probably change your fate for evermore, so take a deep breath and look at your sinister. Face your dragons and go forth.”

As I gazed to that astonishing storm, I could feel it growing stronger, unleashing electricity. So, I stood there with a grim and betook myself to the mysterious corners of the brain but still I shivered in cold, for the storm was as cold as the heart of the Devil itself. When I finally saw the center, the air grew heavier with my approach. I though in the people that mattered to me and endeavored to resign myself cheerfully to death¹, for at last, a glimpse brought me back to my bed.


Anxiety was the word I was looking for all the time to describe my feelings; to understand the pressure. The expectation of something I could not foresee turned my mad laughter into pure panic and there was nowhere to go. All things stopped making sense. There was no judgment at that point.

I stopped to hear that haunted voice

It abandoned me to my faith, or to my lack of it, leaving me with many thoughts floating in the griever’s sea, alone.

Finally, I revolved these circumstances in my mind and determined to go forward in applying myself more particularly to find the voice, to find the truth. Only to find there ain’t no truth.

As I gave up the search and closed my eyes again, the whisper came so close to my ears that all my body froze instantly.

Paralyze, I managed to only whisper back the words: “Where have I gone wrong?” Then, the voice answered: “This is going to take more than one night. ²”

Finally, I embraced my darkest, ghastly and hollowed terrors and accepted the fact that I was in the eminence of giving the first steps into an uncertain fate.

(Texto por Gabriel Muzzi)

¹ (Mary Shelley – Frankenstein) – ² (Charles M. Schulz)

(eye of the storm – by Lovett)

(eye of the storm – by Lovett)

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