Locked up. Shut down. Half hidden under layers packed so tight you’ll never get to the bottom of them. There may be more to all of that than immediately meets the eye.
Just like Carbon. Lithium.
These lists get longer, not shorter as the years go by. The more I engage, the less aware I become. The more I escape, less the possible it is to get back. The more I try, the less I accomplish. This may be what’s wrong with every significant character I create because it may be what’s wrong inside.
What’s funny is that the stories and imaginary friends afford no real escape. Never have. Never will. Just a pandering to my own complicated out-of-time rhythms. Just a vague sort of blood letting from the pressure I’m pressed under.
The problem could be the inability to deal with it, but that’s circular and allows no access to solution, to resolution, to escape. So, ironically, that too is avoided. Access always denied is a perfectly good reason to stop trying.
There was a reason the darkness – not the light – always appealed to me.
Heavy – not bright. The back end, not the forefront.
The last, but those that of their own mistakes miss out on ever becoming first.
The ones to prove all the old lines wrong.
The ones to let all the old hopes down.
Tragedy gives breath to the slow decay.
A sharp edge is kinder than a dull one.
Poison strong enough to kill is sweeter than one that inevitably fails you in the end.
I have always hid in the shadowed edges of a room in full light. Always found the dark in closed, locked up places. Don’t think you’ll lure me from them now.
We can tuck them deeper, if we like. That’ll suit just fine.
I may snap under the weight of it, but who will be able to see?
Am I on the edge?
Did you know?
I always have. I’ve just been trying to skirt the edge of it as of late.
That may have been wrong of me.
Perhaps, I should slip and fall.
Possibly, I won’t be able to avoid it.
Probably, I will.
Small explainable escapes give enough relief to keep it up.
I’m learning, Fenugreek.