She’s all too wrapped in a familiar feeling. A feeling that looms over her and acts more a disease than anything. Her shell comes with a high price. Lack of compassion. Lack of understanding. A vicious cycle. It protects her from the bad, but no good will ever come of it. So she breaks out of it. Simply wishing apathy away. Her safe zone. How wrong you could be to hope for this. Her world becoming nothing more than tiny shards in her hands. Grinding away into find dust. She’d scream if it’d help.
It can’t.
Another illness claims her unstable mind. One that reaps nothing good. One that doesn’t protect her from anything but the ability to flee to Apathy. She never thought she’d have to wish for the gloomy unpleasant state. But at least she didn’t have to endure the truth. She was comfortable in the lie. Omitting anything from her brain made the Pandora’s Box settle into a murmur rather than a raging storm.
She’s scared.
All the while she sits inside the box of a ticking bomb. Anytime now she’s due to be set off. A colorful array of fireworks. But when the world sleeps, they will forget what the ignited explosions they spent so many months preparing for will even looked like. Sad really. Has humanity really given so little thought to the world? She’s enraged. Angry. Bitter. A wedge of truth driven between her sanity and her vision. Yet it allowed her to see clearly. A cry for help and the phone is silent. A wish for a simple acknowledgement and the world grows cold. Yet in turn, they want her compassion, her money. Her services to society. She does her part. She pays her taxes. She works hard. Yet, she still owes money. She is rendered helpless. She’s left the gray and found herself in a dark cold place. At least when she was embraced by apathy she was content. She was not frightened. She was not alone with her thoughts.
Her release is mocked. Her words are belittled. Her intellect is overlooked. She is deemed worthless in her eyes. Every time she finds a challenge, they are one step ahead in half the time she’s been trying to at least find the first step. And you ask her why she’s a hard time with anything? There’s no incentive. Anything she can do, you can do better. They can do better. They are smarter. They are prettier. They can speak better. They can work better. She needs level ground. The only thing she’s managed to find in the bitter darkness is a mere shovel. She’s begun to dig. She doesn’t doubt that somewhere someone has found a bigger shovel and begun to dig a hole twice as deep as she has. She stops. She sits. She hands off her shovel. She doesn’t need it anymore. She doesn’t need anything anymore. She aims for nothing. Her goals are impossible. Her sanity is insurmountable. The dust in her hands she’d rather blow away. It’s too much work to remold something out of fine dust. What reason has she to bother anymore?
 Made27 · Sat Jul 05, 2008 @ 07:02am · 0 Comments |
