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Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Senseless drivel
Just felt like writing so I wrote. Thoughts running through a person's mind in a dark cell. Complete drivel.
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The first thing I become aware of as the haze of sleep leaves is my breathing. I am panting hard as though I have been running - must have had a bad dream though I can't see how it could possibly be worse than my waking hours. Maybe I was dreaming of my life. I hope not. I like to think that in sleep, I escape and go to a place far from here, where they can't get me.

The second thing I am aware of is the pure darkness that surrounds me. For a fraction of a second, I feel my old phobia of the dark creep into me before I close my eyes and take a deep, cleansing breath banishing thoughts of boogiemen out to get me and malevolent spirits that move around in the shadows.

I lie in my cell and drown myself in memories and fantasies. Here, in the silence, there is not much to do except to relive the past; to dream of a future; to create a present.

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Footfall reverberates down the hall outside my cell door. My body tenses before I can stop it. It takes a conscious effort to relax my muscles and when I do, I feel a small sense of victory as though I have won a battle against my captors: they can break my body but they cannot bend my will.

"Are they coming for me?" Always the same thought when I hear the footsteps; always the only thought. Sometimes they do and what follows leaves my body broken and weak. Sometimes they don't and the possibilities of what follow those footsteps become fodder to fuel my sensory-starved imagination.

The beating of shoes against concrete draws near and I hold my breath, hoping beyond hope that they have forgotten me -- better to be forgotten in this void than to endure another day of 'life'.

The footsteps fade away and once more I am in the stillness. How it is possibly for me to so intensely hate that sound yet yearn for more drives me crazy. I hate the fear and anxiety it brings to my heart but it is the sound of life -- proof that there is some other living thing nearby. I am always my most loneliest right after the footsteps disappear.

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I hear a scream that makes my hairs at the back of my neck rise. It is faint but when the only sense receiving new input is your ears, even a rat scurrying by can sound like a roar.

I feel no remorse for this poor, screaming soul. There are light tugs of guilt pulling at my brain for feeling no sympathy but it is quickly stilled. When it comes right down to it: better them than me. Them screaming only tells me that it is not my turn yet. My turn will come though... it always comes eventually.

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Sounds and pain. This is how I categorize my life now. Not by days or hours or minutes nor by sunsets or meals or phonecalls. All that I have anymore are sounds and pain.

I had a chance, just before I was caught, to end it all. Not a day goes by that I wish I did. Not a day goes by that I wish I still could. 'Sweet release' -- that's what I call death now. It sounds cheap and overly dramatic but it amuses me and I imagine it really would be sweet.

I have no idea how much of my time is spent dwelling on regrets and wishes but it is probably the largest portion of my day. It occurs to me that it is probably not healthy for my mental well-being but I fail to find the energy to care. Even insanity seems like a nice escape -- even if it is only a mental one.

What if's and If only's...

posted by Salian at 02:43 0 comments

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