The Price of Life

Mila Kriletich


The world tilts and nothing is the same as it was before.  It’s like staring down a long hallway.  Endless doorways open and open and you become aware of the timelessness of things. As you think this, you detach. You float away somewhere and it’s like you’re just watching this happen from some other place. 

            The knowledge of your mortality washes over you, and with a deep calm, you surrender to it.  Images of your family flash through your mind.  But not much else.  You’re hanging in mid-air.  Conscious, but free-falling. This brings you undone in ways you forgot about.  You’re back there in survival mode.  Just breathing.  Just moving.  Just.

            You’re more frozen than you’ve ever been in your whole life, and now it all becomes about saving your life again.  You’ve been here before.  Like a book you read once, except it’s happening all around you, there’s no barrier, no ability to put the book down and walk away, because its unfolding in real time.

            And so as your heart breaks, and breaks, and breaks, you go into lockdown.  You can only go slowly, your brain beginning to lay down plans.  You mentally start to pack up your house.

            But everything is tainted now.  It’s all gone black, rotten stains seeping into the edges of everything.  It’s all one big trigger and you’re feeling lost in this storm of chaos and violence and the thought that someone is going to walk up to you and shoot you in the head rips you apart.  You’re fighting panic attacks.  You’re just keeping your head above water.  You’re just coping.  If one more person asks you how you are you think you’ll burst into a river of tears and drown the whole world.

            The skies are dark and it’s all falling down around your ears.  Its splitting apart, all of the peace you once knew has vanished into the grey air and you’re left in a void, dangling, hanging on for your life.  You have no way of knowing anything anymore.  It’s shattering into thousands and thousands of glittering fragments, sharp and flying through the air like knives, slicing up all of the good things you fought so hard for.

            Your heart has fallen out of your chest completely.  You watch it beating in slow motion on the floor.  You put your fingers into the sticky wet hole where it used to be and all you can feel is cold black shadows and razor fear.

            It cuts you up into ribbons.  You flutter in a breeze that feels like the biggest storm of your life is just over the horizon.  Cold wind whips all around.  You feel it slicing through your soul and everything is frozen, poised, ready to leap, to move, to run.

            You can see yourself there in the darkness, a little boat, cast adrift.  You know there is a dock somewhere out there, and you know you are heading towards it, but you lost your anchor, you lost your sail, you lost the spare oars and the life jackets too.  But you are still afloat, and the tide is taking you towards your destination.  You can only try to hold on to the barest shred of faith that the current is taking you towards a harbour that is truly, and finally, safe.

            But it’s time to make moves.  It’s time to watch.  To gather yourself.  To prepare.  You make lists in the functional part of your mind. 

            What it feels like is walking through a post-apocalyptic wasteland, dust everywhere, nothing the same as it was. 

            An empty vista. 


Image from Pixabay

Image from Pixabay

Mila is a mercurial thinker with an irreverent mind, non conformist and here to share raw experience as a way through the darkness. Meditation teacher, counsellor, solo traveller, writer and artist, serial blogger and chocolate enthusiast. Currently residing in Australia - next stop India to live in the Himalayas. Check out her website: