Warning: This post covers sensitive subjects and strong themes that may contain triggers. Reader discretion is advised.
Feral beasts are dangerous business. Clever, tricky, and adapted to escape at all costs.
Be still. It may not see you.
Still, silent in the brush. It obscured any vision. Each breath more shallow, as I dared not inhale, lest the beast’s minions catch the sound. One fatal mistake. One stirring.
Run like hell!
A jump and a sprint, I was dashing off into the great beyond. Dozens of faces, so many places, a blur, while I disguised myself among them. I’m okay. I’m fine. Each tortured response beckoned the minions closer. How can they possibly hear me when I can hardly hear myself?
And I fell silent. I no longer possessed meaningful words, delicate prose, or any of the everything and anything I’ve been revered as. They were carried away, the winds encircling my disheveled being robbing me of them, and corroding the sharp edges. Running. Focus on running.
Crowded towns grew thinner, and passing remarks couldn’t have been louder than a faint whisper. Sparse landscape, withering, yellow, knee high grass. Plain sight.
Blistered feet and lungs ablaze, each passing breath more laborious than the last. I pressed on. The grass gave way to shifting sands, a sea of desert. I slipped and skidded, dune to dune, determined.
If I can remain on my feet long enough, I will outpace this.
Every ounce of focus dripped into the concentration it took to remain on my feet, to drag the air into my lungs, to keep myself steady. The sea of sand was merely a mirage as I kept my sight ahead. Rock. Steady, solid, crags awaiting my arrival. This is where my feet took me. My safety, solitude amongst these rocks. I scaled them with delight, my anxiety eased, all of the heavy burdens lifting. The top was in sight. I pulled myself to standing.
To precariously perch on a cliffside. Frozen, despairing, I peered over the edge, just long enough to peek at the crashing, foaming water beneath me. Was it took late to retrace my path? One backward glance. All I saw were shadows rushing me. With one incredible thrust, I was thrown from that ledge into free fall.
The wind screamed in my ears, filling my head with all of the sound in the world. One voice stood out in high contrast, seemingly pressed against my eardrum.
The Voice murmured, “Helpless. On your way down. You destroy everything you touch.”
Tumbling mid-air, disoriented without a sense of up or down. I dropped in free fall. Slam! – The water became a wall against my back and knocked wind clear from my very soul. My body had become leaden and weak from the desperate flight. The sea was the color of ink, waves licking and thrashing my now ragdoll body.
And the sinking. No flailing and gasping. No fight. Just sinking.
I waited, ear poised in wait of the closing door. Patient, still anticipation. Another few minutes past, I went to the window. The car was gone. In a moment, I’d be free.
I would be released from the constant, throbbing ache. The very same sore that punctures like soul like cigarette burns through paper. Liberation would come from the nervous pacing, anticipatory anxiety of living within the ever-looming, glaring shadow of bipolar depression. Released from the twisting tendrils born from a withering mind. From my silent desperation.
Solace in a blade.
Is your love strong enough?
It rang out clear as a bell and filled my otherwise unoccupied room. Everything I loved and hated, all together, all at once, surrounded me. Everything I adored and despised, one in the same within me.
Like a rock in the sea.
The blade edge pierced the flesh of my ankle. The flash of pain merely dimmed the torrent inside of me. A momentary distraction. I’d retrace that line, pressing harder, digging deeper.
And I will answer to no one.
Am I asking too much?
First blood. It rushed to the surface, red as fire, trickling from my veins. It was a delightfully horrific sight. A witness to all of the agony released. Blood letting.
Is your love strong enough?
Once. Twice. Again. More. More. Another! I want to drive it all out!
Five distinct slices in all. I heaved an enormous sigh, and lit a cigarette. I sank like a stone. The chase was over; the thrashing and flailing finished. I surrendered myself to the undertow, and watched almost indifferently as the surface faded to black.
Maybe I’d just disappear
If I can’t keep my head above the tide
I don’t think I can
Save myself . . .