The flood of notifications
Constant and deafening
Each one more vile
Each one more unhinged
They roll in around you
Like an abyss pulling you inward
Life rolling along, texts rolling in
Like the winds of a hurricane passing over
Until life takes a break
Reading them is like watching a train slowly crashing
Each one a new moment of a horrible tragedy unfolding
Never will the sound of that notification not being the anxiety of what’s on the other side of it
Never again will communication be regarded the same
Here they come
The eye has passed over
Brace yourself for the winds
Buckle up and weather the storm
When the full life of the barrel concludes
It will have been filled and drained many times over
Various liquids of various sources
Passed through it
On their way to other destinations
Once the last opaque drop is gone
Look to the bottom
Shine your light
See those scratches in the wood
The deep gouged lines of a madman’s nails
Those marks show the depths he was willing to reach
He scraped and slashed at whatever drop of anything was left
All to ensure that the barrel still had purpose and value
All because he knew the next fill would erase the pain of the liquid stored the time before
Once the barrel’s life comes to an end
So does the madman as one’s use fulfilled the other’s purpose
Once the barrel is dry, the madman will succumb to the drought
Heart dry. Mouth dry. Mind dry.
A madman full of passion slowly withered to a pile of dust.
Returned to the earth as dust
As he wished
Burn the barrel
The fire forged it in the beginning
Just as it did him
The fire shall be the last kiss for them both
Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.
It doesn’t take much
Just a few drops can compromise the entire supply
Poison of mind and of heart is the most concerning
Once that well runs dry or is poisoned
All is lost
Passersby know not that the water is tainted
Suffering is certain
Why would you understand? Why would you justify? Knowing the suffering firsthand.
Once the poison spills to my lips, I’ll drink with abandon.
I won’t shy away
I won’t run
I will run to you, for one last kiss
Knowing you are immune
Selfish is my love
Selfless is my existence
Do you throw in the towel
If they are safe and financially secure
Did they lose
Do they win
How does one give up and give in to give more and give all
These are my thoughts. My inner desire to simultaneously care for in care of this entity. This being. This soul I’ve been entrusted with watching over.
Zoom out. It isn’t even the end. It’s just a chapter. Just a page. Just a paragraph.
Our story isn’t over. It’s just part of the writing and this page ends in sadness and security while the next opens with light and purity.
I’m at a crossroad. I both yearn for her and yearn to free her. My actions would be deemed selfish while the intent is selfless. It matters not to me what is thought of in the end and after I’m gone. Few knew me, if any.
I’m just a version and variation at any point in time to whomever bore witness to that moment. A chameleon in a sheep costume luring the wolves. The demons were kept close. The addictions and impurities covered in acts of kindness and caring. I’m a monster that deserves this instance to be relegated to whatever purgatory waits for me on the other side before I reboot into whatever is next.
Time to reset. Time to succumb. Time to release and to offer freedom in return.
I won’t let go... I won’t let go of these ideals. I won’t let go of my love. I will let go of the edge to which I grasp with desperation. I will let gravity win. I will take care without risk or burden of more strife. More sadness and more discontent.
We are but mere moments in time. My time is a blip on the radar of the universe so who is to say that a star shouldn’t burn out in a fiery show to be witnessed and celebrated vs to be thought of as risk and peril to other stars or planets in its destructive path.
Goodnight. Rest well. Sweet dreams and wake refreshed knowing my existence was fueled by purpose thanks to you and them. I’m forever grateful and I’ll see you in the next page or chapter.