There’s no place for a voice like mine between the walls in which you breathe. There’s no room for my hands to speak. The months; the years are meaningless once I’m within your radius and it’s pointless to countdown at all, let alone look forward to the dwindling numbers. Because this countdown does not reach zero. It’s just a time bomb without an external clock to signal when it might explode. So rather than sit here and wait for the eruption to claim my life, I take my leave out the backdoor: silently and subtly so as not to disturb you from your sleep.
But you’ll find me gone when you wake and realize whether or not I was ever of any importance. I already know the answer is no because my worth was never that high. It’s okay though. You don’t need to hear me; to see me. To know if I’m there. Because I’m not. I’m surrounded by contracting walls that serve as my wings and my prison. I am safe. I am free. And I have a job to do. You are no longer in the equation. Those words of mine from this afternoon will be the last you’ll hear from me.
Yet I am sure you’ll be just fine.