to live or die?
- By Vital Germaine
- Published 01/29/2008
Vital Germaine
Vital is a multifaceted individual who was born of biracial parents in the former Belgian Congo during a horrific civil war. He was raised in London before moving to Belgium during his late teens where he was introduced to the world of entertainment. Vital soon moved to New York to further his entertainment career. After two years in the Big Apple, he auditioned for Cirque Du Soleil. He performed for over 5 years in Cirque’s productions of Mystère and Quidam. A tragic injury forced him to prematurely end his acrobatic career. He has since become a published artist, a business owner, and an author with his first book on the verge of publication. For more on Vital log onto artofvital.com
How does one explain or describe the feeling of depression. How does one share the experience of life from behind a thick blue lens that filters out all other colors? I can only attempt to take you by the hand and talk you through my then-darkened world in the hope you perceive the saddening shades of cobalt, appended to cheerless slabs of sinking concrete.
It was like being submerged in an ocean azure so dark and deep, light could not penetrate its depths, a black so void it chewed on hope and swallowed life. That was just the tip of the iceberg.
From within my soul I felt a scream so black it thundered across the plains unbolting sinister skies of blood filled rain, devouring blameless hills which mythology once fed. Hills that once upon a nursery time were velvety pink with the sounds of music and Winnie the Pooh, now turned to the boil of a witches brew. Terror laden dungeons of self-despair neighbored by fields of charcoaled scorn and tyrannical trenches of two troubled wars whose bullets singed the hair of my flesh: a hissing snake from Satan’s sperm breached my skin, raping my soul, ravaging
my sanity. And hope like a fly was swallowed whole by a venomous toad. I cramped inside, fell on my knees and prayed that Armageddon’s noose this day would save me from life. And in thanks, I died alive.
I remember feeling so empty that at times I would lie on my couch in a state of emotional vegetation slowly rotting away the days. Meaningless minutes became vacant hours of anguish. Hours became incessant moments of nothingness: null, void, numb and without reason. Each passing minute, a constricted hour-glass bulged with bile and volcanic lead. Each solitary moment was eternal condemnation. Every mirrored reflection, a fractured pane of hopelessness, a bottomless pit walled with venomous ignominy, unrivalled despair and polluted torment screeching its claws on a jaded shield of chalk-board shivers. But I must find a light in this darkened world. I must create a spark. Plant a seed -- survive the arid spice of flushed cheeks and beguiled iniquity. But submit I shan’t. Die I can’t. Just sixty more seconds is all I need. One minute at a time. I will overcome. I will see light again. Just one minute at a time and I'll be me again. I can do it. I will do it. I did it!
It was like being submerged in an ocean azure so dark and deep, light could not penetrate its depths, a black so void it chewed on hope and swallowed life. That was just the tip of the iceberg.
From within my soul I felt a scream so black it thundered across the plains unbolting sinister skies of blood filled rain, devouring blameless hills which mythology once fed. Hills that once upon a nursery time were velvety pink with the sounds of music and Winnie the Pooh, now turned to the boil of a witches brew. Terror laden dungeons of self-despair neighbored by fields of charcoaled scorn and tyrannical trenches of two troubled wars whose bullets singed the hair of my flesh: a hissing snake from Satan’s sperm breached my skin, raping my soul, ravaging
I remember feeling so empty that at times I would lie on my couch in a state of emotional vegetation slowly rotting away the days. Meaningless minutes became vacant hours of anguish. Hours became incessant moments of nothingness: null, void, numb and without reason. Each passing minute, a constricted hour-glass bulged with bile and volcanic lead. Each solitary moment was eternal condemnation. Every mirrored reflection, a fractured pane of hopelessness, a bottomless pit walled with venomous ignominy, unrivalled despair and polluted torment screeching its claws on a jaded shield of chalk-board shivers. But I must find a light in this darkened world. I must create a spark. Plant a seed -- survive the arid spice of flushed cheeks and beguiled iniquity. But submit I shan’t. Die I can’t. Just sixty more seconds is all I need. One minute at a time. I will overcome. I will see light again. Just one minute at a time and I'll be me again. I can do it. I will do it. I did it!
