“Cumulonimbus.” A chapter in an unpublished book. By: Jason Suerte Felipe
No one ever really suspects that you, out of the 7.5 billion people on this Earth, wanted to kill yourself- and they never will. You are a master of disguise. You hide your emotions in a bottle and cast it into the deep depths of the ocean- believing that these crashing waves are just temporary. But every now and then the storm reappears.
“Tornadoes that devastate entire towns, reshaping lives forever in a fusillade of capricious fury.”
Fury, hostility, bitterness- rage. When you are dealt with so much internal agony, your heart starts to foster up a cumulonimbus cloud. A lethal cloud that circles around you with currents too strong and winds too dangerous to break through. Leaving you in the middle of a tornado. Chaos circling around you with nowhere to go.
Cumulonimbus is a nasty bitch. He plays with my head, throwing me into a tornado of self-doubt and pity. My feet planted in dry cement with droplets of hatred dripping from my brow. I look up and see him closing the top funnel, submerging me in a rage of darkness. I hear nothing but the wind and the tearing, loud wreckage that surrounds me.
Suddenly I’m alone.
Cumulonimbus has stripped me away from my light. An empty dark room with just me- my own worst enemy. The rage has swept away everything and everyone I have known. I can no longer hear them. Their soft words replaced by the loud whispers in my own head. God. The whispers. Multiple whispers of doubt and anger, slowly festering into one loud orchestra of pain and suffering.
I am my own best tormentor. Cumulonimbus knows this. And he knows my thoughts. But if I’m to be so lucky- a strike of lighting may be all I need to see again. To feel again.
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1800-273-8255