Life, death and rebirth

She was a woman that was exhausted of everything. Her pain had consumed her inside and was killing her day after day. What was supportable, at some point wasn’t anymore. What gave her strength, at some point didn’t give anymore. There was a moment that she realized that no matter how she tryed to run away from her problem, run away from herself, she couldn’t deny the fact that she hated so much, because the memories from her past were tormenting her, and no matter how she wanted to forget all of that, more the memories were showing up in her mind, as if she still was living that. It was unbearable and she only could think about a way to put an end to that pain, that was put an end on herself, the life that she hated very much. From then on, when wasn’t the conflict of pain and strength, was the conflict of life and death that was consuming her thoughts. She didn’t want to die, she wanted to have the opportunity to be herself, but life was so cruel that she never could have what she wanted the most, unless she dies and be born again, and think about it made her believe that nothing could make her fully happy in this life.

When the exhausting conflict between life and death ended, the rejection of herself won. No matter how she was angry at nature that made her that way, lost the faith in gods, deep in her core something good still was keeping her alive, the faith that there should be a reason for her to be that way, but think about why made her believe that it was a kind of punition for something terrible that she did in another life. What would it be?

She was determined to put an end on this, but didn’t have courage enough. Something was keeping her alive. Day after day she was living in automatic being distant from reality. At some moment, she obtained a substance that could take her away from this life without causing her pain. Even with that thing in her hands the doubt remained. She didn’t really die, but there wasn’t cure for her pain. She still was in conflict, but until when she could bear it she didn’t know. Even being in limit, there always seemed to have more. Someday, a friend invited her to something that maybe could cheer her, something that maybe if could make her connect better with nature would make her understand that she wasn’t so abnormal as she felt. Apprehensive she accepted the invitation, but took with her the substance, but a way that no one could know.

In a distant place, after hours traveling, in a florest, the cult to the sacred feminine was exclusive to women. No matter how everyone know about her differences, they treated her as equal, but she didn’t see herself as equal, something was missing, something that she never could know what what it would feel. No matter how they told her that she didn’t need an uterus to be the woman she was, that kept destroying her inside. Each one of the presents had the freedom to be as free as possible to connect to the nature around, was it the clothes, or their ausence, and the way they express through art and the music with songs in honor of godess. At the same time she felt good, she was also feeling bad, but she really tryed to put the differences aside and see herself as equal, but deep in her core the conflict between mind and body was consuming her. When the first night arrived, she joined the circle of songs around the fire pit. The endless conflict seemed finally have an end and she could feel good there, until the moment she felt the wound hurt again.

She went away from the circle and decided to sleep to try calm down the mind and not feel the pain. It wasn’t enough. It was unbearable. It was late at night when she decided to call the friend for a talk. No matter how the dialogue was to find a way to heal that pain, it ended to make it hurt more, a point that it was totally unbearable to deal the fact that she never would be a woman biologically. She wished the pain had stopped. She was desperate. At the end she decided to use the substance. The only thing that she asked the friend was to not feel guilty, because this guilty was only hers, that wasn’t strong enough to deal with all of that. The friend felt bad but respected her decision.

After the legal proceedings about her death, her funeral was different. They put her body in a special kind of fabric and tied it in a form of a drop. After the burial a tree of acerola was planted upon her place of final rest. In life her body wasn’t able to generate other life, but in death her body was able to generate something that could feed the life of others.

I had this dream the week I first tried to die.