Tidbits 2072917

Are you becoming what you always hated?

It was her again.

She had crept into my thoughts, crept into my soul, brushed the curtains aside and opened the window.

Are you becoming what you always hated?

She was scared, terrified of solitude and being alone. Yet she was all by herself inside me.

There was only silence to entertain her – well, silence and the still periodic beating of my heart.

Are you becoming what you always hated?

Still, I fear for her. I hear intermittent pounding coming from my chest. Was it her? Was it my still heart, or was it something else?

Whatever it was, I knew she couldn’t handle it alone. She needed help. But I needed help as well. Usually when faced with uncertainties like this, I resorted to some external force like alcohol or a good symphony to get me through.

But this time I knew it wouldn’t suffice. The normal tactics I usually deployed were useless.

Are you becoming what you always hated?

There’s that banging again. It’s getting louder and louder now. I can tell because it resembles the noise my neighbor makes when she chases her kid around the house to beat him.

Are you becoming what you always hated?

There’s gunfire now. Gunfire in my soul. Massive artillery and heavy weaponry lined up on the front lines. Soldiers and army men geared up for the fight of their lives.

Are you becoming what you always hated?

I can’t see her anymore. She’s lost somewhere inside me, and dear god I hope she doesn’t stray too far away along the dark path. Even I don’t know what’s hidden inside – deep, deep inside – yet she somehow insists on getting in.

Are you becoming what you always hated?

I remember grave-robbers. I remember the heavy sound of metal and gold and steel and iron and diamond being dragged through hot sand, well-wrapped and neatly adjusted in their bags. They are now indistinguishable and resemble ordinary grocery bags.

Are you becoming what you always hated?

It’s late, it’s always late in my mind. I’m always the last one at the party and the first to leave. I’m always the last one to catch a whiff of life, a smell of the cool northern breeze or a taste of the hot road as the car tires screech and the vehicle speeds up against the coast.

Are you becoming what you always hated?

I am a man of science. I am a man of people. I am a man of words.

No, maybe I am just a man. Or maybe I just am.

Are you becoming what you always hated?

She appears again. She rises to the surface of my soul and her face appears again. It is showing traits of sadness and anxiety; it is showing traits of depression.

Yet I remember that face, and even through darkness it still shines and I can see it is more beautiful than ever.

She looks intact, unharmed by the many devils contained within me that tried to slay her or persuade her to join them. Yet she is back, untainted and unscratched.

I want to talk to her. I want to ask her what happened. I want to know how deeply she has gone, what point she has reached and what she saw.

I want to know what she found.

But she is still, she is frail and still. Her eyes are the only things moving, and her lips flash a delicate yet weak smile.

The gunfire stops. I wait for her.

The loud noises stop. Still I wait for her.

The heavy pounding stops. I want to talk to her.

But she beats me to it and parts her lips, and with eyes fixated at me she only utters a single sentence that carries an eerie familiarity and silences all the combined sounds of the universe:

Are you becoming what you always hated?

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