Senses Fail
Through those glazed and blurry eyes, nothing seemed real at all. As the time flew by, existence seemed to slip through my own hands like so many grains of sand, each second taking more and more of the contents of my life's hour glass. Life - drifting through me like the wind, gently nudging me to the edge of the grave. No bends, no rocks, nothing in my way. All there ever was just… was. In my state of mind, I could not feel, yet I was vividly aware of everything that was happening. I did not and could not notice how altered I had become.
I did notice, with neither surprise nor acceptance, that I was indeed warm, but also that I was hollow. It felt as though I was living in an accelerated world, but I was moving slower than usual. My hands stretched before me without command, and I blurredly perceived that I was gazing at and even observing the motions of my hands. My finger tips moved about the fog that was my world and my body remained horizontal. It seemed as though I truthfully wanted to sleep, but could not, and therefore stayed in the drowsy half-existence I had succumbed to warily.
I stayed in this state for quite some time, searching the hollow that was my body for any sign of emotion that I could stop from spreading, but the door knocked and I was no longer alone in my stupor.
With some effort, I managed to lug my body into an upright position on the bed. I steadied myself before attempting a walk, and soon I was headed towards the door. As I walked, my deceleration in the world had become surprisingly apparent, and I had to grab hold of many objects before I reached the doorknob. I turned it, and opened the door.
Before me stood a woman not much older than myself, with signs of a youthful beauty long past. Her long red hair was tied into pigtails, seeming to hint at the girlish figure I once had known. I gazed at her stupidly with half-open eyes, and thought that the state of my vision was appropriate for my past with her. We had been high school sweet hearts, but that had been long ago. At present, she stood in horror.
"I should have known."
"W-... what?" Was my stupid reply.
"You know very well 'what'- you idiot." Her feet stamped rapidly on the porch as she eyed me with those still intense eyes. She may have been older, but the distinct features of who she was still outshined the changes in her physical appearance - including her temper. Likewise, my stupidity and lack of execution when better judgment was concerned remained unsurprisingly consistent.
"Can you come back later?" I wasn't so much concerned with inconveniencing her. I was more concerned with myself, wanting nothing more but to go back to my musing uninterrupted. She was quick to catch on.
"You know what? No. I don't think I will. This has gone on far too long and you know it." She pushed me with more force than her usually gentle shove. I stared at her momentarily with the hollow shells that used to be so deep, so understanding. She stared back at me, and though she was clearly searching – found nothing. Empty. Void. She shook her head.
"I should have never tried to help you. You have never been one to man-up you lazy, good for nothing, piece of trash." Her cheeks flushed and her eyes watered with these last insults. It seemed for a moment that she would take these harsh words back, but at second consideration she decided to let them take effect.
But in my hazed expression there was no sign of pain, not a trace of guilt, or even of abandonment. I was hollow. No emotions flowed into or out of me. At least not at the moment they didn't. I verbalized my state of mind more precisely than I would have later liked.
"Okay then, just don't let the door hit you on your way out." And I said these words with such smooth casualness that I didn’t even notice how sharp they sounded.
With that little remark, she was gone within the minute. She turned, stalked a few feet away, turned around, slapped me not once – but twice, and drove away in her car. I was left by the door, watching my past drive swiftly away, probably never to return.
It only took a few minutes, but I stood there for some time, listening to the still air and the ringing of the silence against my ears. My longings got the better of me, and I went back inside. I was halfway through the living room and on my way to the bedroom when I noticed my world coming back to speed.
A shot of panic hit my spine and traveled up to my mind. This chill in itself was enough to alert me of the wildfire spreading through the hollow caverns of my body. It was the pain. The unmistakably horrifying pain. I could not stand on the tracks of fate and face down that destructive train today, I could not take another hit, not after what had happened earlier. I rushed to the cabinets in the kitchen, and pulled out a set of familiar glasses from them. I reached for some bottles, and poured them out into the glasses liberally.
"Not today," I thought, "Never today, or tomorrow, or ever."
I held my nose, ready for the onslaught that was to take place inside of myself. I tilted my head back, and downed the numbing elixir. Then, I did another, and another, until the line was finished.
I made my way to the bedroom and sat myself back on the bed where I had been before, my world slowing down to the pace I had become accustomed to. The fires which had raged inside of me quieted down, and soon I noticed that I was beginning to fall into a deep slumber. I perceived three things before I fell victim to my toxic mixture: The first was unsettling, the second was disturbing, and the third was enough to nullify my efforts towards complete numbness.
As I reclined on my bedside, I noticed the uniform I used to work in was covering the clock and making it impossible to tell the time. The uniform had been from my father’s business. I remembered the high expectations my family, friends, and I had for my young life. Then I saw the dust collecting on the suit, and I turned my head away.
As I turned, not man enough to face those oncoming feelings of failure, I saw a picture of myself and the woman who had previously visited me. We were gazing intently into each others eyes with concentrated yet content dispositions. It was the first Christmas we spent together, the first trip we took together, and the place we had our first kiss. My heart flooded with warm feeling momentarily, but when I noticed the crack in the frame, dividing us right down the middle, all of that feeling drained out like the rest of the hope I once held.
Finally, I buried my face under a pillow, and hid from the world. Safe, alone, and with nothing left to hurt me, I began to succumb to sleep. But the last thing that I knew before my world turned to darkness, before I was tossed into a dreamless and hopeless world, was that there was a teardrop working slowly, diligently, and almost deliberately down my left cheek. And then everything was dark, and I felt no more.
