Broken Hip

Someone turned off the moon. The sons of the universe glitter amidst the ether, though their light is too far away to sustain me and their ears too faint to hear my objections. On this night of the dead, not even the crickets rise to offer a song of comfort, nor the owl his waking hoot. No, for now blindness is my treasured companion, and silence, my cold-blooded yet dedicated lover. The trail ahead of me has vanished, and behind me lies a cliff of several hundred feet, a lone bat passing beneath its mighty stature and chipping an echo into the open abyss. The air here suffocates as a cord pulled tight around the neck.

It’s the claustrophobia, however, that crushes me between its beak, for there is no escape from here, no path to take, no step to be had, no comfort to be gained. All that here exists is me, and no one else. Yet I am more familiar with this scene than I care to admit. It is a cold-blooded real-time replay of a majority percentage of my past. I should host an award ceremony to cherish and congratulate all the faithful individuals who have contributed to its glorious existence, knowing that they can never undo the foundational truths and occurences, horrible as they may be, which have already been laid and built upon.

I had hoped to drown this part of me so that I never had to sit in this place again, but apparently there is no escaping the inevitable. It is here, and I am here, and we are dating eachother again against all of my wishes. I am a significantly-sized tree with far too many summers under my belt to expect a repair of any damage which was inflicted long ago, injuries that healed without being set properly or burns which pressed so deep that fixing them is impossible.

Hi, how are you? It’s been a long time since we’ve last talked. Oh, not long enough, that’s for sure. What was that? You would like to rule over my life again? Sure, here’s all the keys. Not like I can stop you, anyway!

Sure, let’s be friends again for a long time, just like last time. Let’s be besties. No. You can rule over it all, no questions asked. You did it like that last time, too, remember? No, I’m sure I don’t care! Why would I care that you want to murder my soul all over again? No one would care about that!

Let’s veer to the left for a moment.

Imagine being thrown into a garbage can over and over again, for years and years. Eventually, a person who continues to be tossed into the garbage begins to believe that perhaps he or she is supposed to belong there. Soon, you start to question why you are not there right now, why you even climbed out of it, since that’s where you belong in the first place. You forgot that you had ever belonged anywhere else. Then you start tossing your own self in without any outward stimuli being necessary, although at any one moment there are a thousand namable entities or reasons which were more more than willing to offer a reason.

Now imagine being ignored for years and years, over and over again, despite feeble efforts to change oneself among a sea of people who couldn’t have cared less about one stupid kid’s problems. Soon, a person begins to reason that his or her self, not others, is the real culprit behind the long, lonely walks on the beach and the dark, quiet, loveless nights of winter, most of which end in the complete loss of caring about one’s situation and the complete loss of the desire and perceived ability to change it. Imagine a situation which has been for many years hopeless, impotent and unyielding in the face of screams of rage, fits of sadness and bouts of unimaginable depression that lasted long into adulthood. Yes, that would probably result in an unfixable, long-term fuck-up in the system where the walls are weaker, the support beams compromised and the firewall can’t seem to update fast enough, where no amount of begging and pleading can fix the irreparably torn segment of soul and no amount of tears can stop the fit when it starts. But it still works sometimes, so maybe it’s not so bad?

Yeah, fuck you.

I believe in overcoming one’s past, but some things can never be fixed and last forever. So, let’s just keep on carrying the weight of the world and pretend it’s not there, since that is the most sensible thing to do.


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