Sunday, 9 June 2019


The car stopped, engine purring, feeling, after being driven harder than usual. Aggression, loud, strong, pouring from every part of him, he knew that he had to stop. He didn’t like this side of him, seldom seen, never really felt, but real and part of him nonetheless. He’d fought against this, denied this moment for far too long, yet the moments often found a way to reach the surface. 

Grief, loss, pain, all part of living, but this… this was different. His life had desires, needs, wishes and wants within his every thought. Hidden, scripted in an ink that vanished from his view each time he tried yet, of course, he knew they existed. 

Emotions, his emotions, held together so tightly that one would assume that he had control of his entire world. His every thought, his imagination, skilled at finding life and wonder in all things, often roamed free to explore such fantasises alive and bold. He held them, close, against his heart, often wanting to let free his very wants into the world but that, for him, was easier said than obviously done. 

He’d taken, indulged, used, experienced, loved, lost and more. No matter which word you used, he’d experienced a lot of the world. The vices, the obvious prices, each moment sculpting his soul into another state of mind. Sure, of course, he’d wiped the slate clean, a few times, but that seldom arrived at any type of solace. The depths, of the very depths, of his mind wished to bath across another that the room would look the other way at such thoughts. These things, to him, were buried deep. 

He’d hidden so much, kept it all so tightly together, the pressured job, the loss of life, the loss of Friends and lovers, yet still asking the world… begging the world, for something. Something… that he needed. The world answered, the universe called, arranged for the needs to be met but, as with many things, the words destroyed what the world created. 

Sitting there, alone, in his car, breathing harshly into the cabin, he knew what he’d done. You have chances and choices, each day. Each a miracle, often taken from you, expanded for as long as we can indulge, taken for granted. He felt himself open, finally, exclusively, slowly at first and then… a panic. 

 No matter how strong, no matter what you own, say, do or witness, nothing can hold the hand of a person that no longer wishes to be with you. It’s a fact, written upon the walls of time and will never, ever, change. Even the most accomplished script writer, the poet, the writer of life, could find the words that he needed to turn back time. 

Done. Over. Gone. No more. The play finishing with a bleak outlook that threatened his sanity and worth. It would be okay, he knew this, felt this, but that didn’t stop the emotion moving into him creating insanity. Too much, too anything's, all at the same time started to crush his mind. Threatened, the danger apparent within his every thought, he knew that he had one rescue. 

He would never run, as that wasn’t the person he was. He wouldn’t ignore this, abandon himself, as he knew the only answer would be a solution. There were no short cuts, the rising anxiety threatening every single breath, but he couldn’t just escape. 

As his thoughts clouded his judgement, his sanity, his very essence, pushed through the faltering breathing and grasped the first solid judgement he’d had in the last few hours. He would escape, abandon everything, every person, realising that his sanctuary would be within his own heart. He wouldn’t simply find rescue in the arms of another. He would face this, face himself, look into the mirror of his own eyes and admit his failure to hold his world together. 

He knew that he was allowed to break, permitted to fail, despite knowing that many would shy away from him once they heard the news. It was time. There was no place to hide from himself. No magical drug to reduce his issues to mere memories long gone. He cleared his eyes, stopping the tears, understanding that right now, this moment, he was once again in a car, alone. The constant drive to a new destination staring him in the face. A new road, the never-ending path to rescue.  

Written last year, around November time.

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