I haven’t broke this entire time. Three months. Three months of absolutely unpredictable blows, ones that should’ve taken me out right when they started. But I have mastered the talent of detachment from reality. It’s like wearing weights, you’re weighed down, but you get comfortable wearing them around. You’re worn out by the end of the night, and it pains you at times, but not enough to bring you completely down.
But tonight. I was feeling reckless. I was feeling desperate. The feeling of desperation is one I have become quite familiar with. I should be evoked with fear at the thought of doing any of the things I’ve done. But I haven’t been. I wasn’t.
I was ready to go on a suicide mission. Walk into a minefield. I was more ready for this than I had ever been for anything in my life. I wanted to walk into that place, with the force of a nation. I was going to be respectful, polite, but strong. For the sake of my family. For the sake of my sanity.
I wanted to walk in and see their faces. So many eyes turned towards me, the person out of place. But they would see me. The ones who mattered. I wanted nothing more than to hand them their presents and hug them. For who could stop me? I would’ve allowed no one to even step foot near me. I was ready to fight a war but a silent one, an air of peace but ready to shut down anyone standing in my way.
I wanted to talk to anyone who would listen to me. Tell the truth. Shed some light at their candlelight gathering. For my truth could light up the entire dark building. My presence would have set the place on fire.
I knew how risky it all was. I knew it was potentially a flawed plan. I knew so many things could go wrong. But I couldn’t take those things into account. I was too worked up and too worn out. I was ready to take a punch to the face, I was ready to be attacked, I was ready. I wanted it. I wanted to have the Christmas show of the century, a grand production of the reality.
But I had made a mistake. I sat in the parking lot in the car, and the truth all hit me. It was one probably for the best. Keeping me from being so reckless. But it burned me to the core, knowing everything I had been so worked up for had been shut down. I didn’t want to talk or move. I just knew I had to do something. But nothing could amount to everything I had wanted to do.
I picked up my phone and dialed her number. No answer, as expected. I left one message. Asking how to go about this. Calmly, casually. But the more I sat there and the more the cold reached me and the more my heart started to pound and the more I started to be overcome with emotion I hadn’t felt in so long, I picked up the phone again. I this time left a message to them. I spoke and did not expect this but I broke. I broke on that message and my entire being crumbled and all I could do was sob.
It was talking to empty air. Something I knew would get me nowhere. It’s not like they would ever hear my words. I just couldn’t hold back anymore. I sat there alone, crying so hard my stomach began to hurt.
My phone then rang and I answered. I couldn’t believe it. How could it get any worse? It did. All I could say was I couldn’t take anymore, I couldn’t hear any more insanity. I was brought down to a level I haven’t been at. It was as uncontrollable as needing to breathe, I needed to break.
Reality began coming in in waves again, and I began to cough. Everything in me wanted to turn itself inside out, sit in that car and never leave. Reality just sometimes feels too real to even be real. And yet so unreal it leaves you questioning your own sanity.
More thoughts began entering my mind. Anything. Anything I had to do I would do it. I was ready to hop out of the car and go there. Walk there through the freezing cold. I knew I couldn’t. But it didn’t stop me from heavily debating it. I was in a worse state of mind then ever.
Three months have never felt like such a lifetime. I didn’t think I could bounce back this time. What was the point? Without my world? Detaching myself from the truth has always been my method due to problems being detached from me. But how do you detach yourself from something that is etched into your being, into your blood?
I’ve been told this can’t last forever. But it doesn’t make it easier to convince my mind of that. Time is a man made concept and to me this is forever. This is an eternity.
I’ve been told not to be afraid. But I am. I know back then how strong these storms were. And this is a new age. They have grown stronger. Able to take down anything they want. And now they want to suck the life from the world.
I’ve been told to stay strong. But what is strong? How can I be strong when there is nothing I can do?
I’ve been told they love me. But do they? How can they if I have been so degraded by these people to them?
I’ve been told I will get through this. That they will get through this. But how can we when the hurricane of the century is ripping through us? Taking out all of the sunlight, wiping out all the shine. Driving such a wedge between us. An earthquake, cracking the world in half.
Does anything ever truly recover from such devastation?
The lost angels will be returned, reunited, and the earth will have the sun again.
The harps will play another song. It may be awhile, it may feel like an age, but the day of the song is out there.