There comes a time when one must sit down in solitary and think long and hard about life’s direction.
Well, nothing unusual – I do this almost every other day.
My friends would barely lift an eyebrow, knowing that I have retreated into my own space, oblivious to much of the social scene around me. One of her moods again, they would say and duly leave me to my own devices, until I snap out of it by myself.
Often the thoughts of uncertainties terrify me to the extent of having to sleep with a night light switched on, for fear of what lurks beyond. Games of the mind no doubt; though I could imagine scenes so real that the feelings transpired linger for a long time, exorcised by the might of the sun, only to return when the pale moon beckons with her sad sad song. Sometimes when I am too far gone, I could hear them. So close, so real that the relief when I open my eyes to peer into darkness is almost too overwhelming for words. Nothingness can be gladness.
Too many demons running in circles playing hopscotch. One carries a hammer, one carries a telescope, one carries a sharp blade of grass, one carries a scepter and all of them needs Prozac. As far as demons go, all of them are most definitely selfish, seeking self-gain and self-respect the bizarre way, to the point of being absurd yet very much hurtful. Temporary help is only just that – temporary. The reason for the demons’ existence has yet to be understood. Nevertheless, there are too many demons and my glass is always half empty.
But what if daisies are meant to rule and roses take a graceful step back? An appealing thought but thoroughly unattainable. The rose has carved her mark in her own blood. In the end there will only be the red rose. Silently weeping she asked, is this blood for my fragile petals worth the anguish of the scarring thorns? Yet it has been done. Let the circus begins again.
Mark me, take me, tie me, ravage me.
Explore me, strip me, gaze at me, caress me.