The fragile

Empty words, empty promises

Words keep falling out, picked up and thrown away, anything to keep us away. Anything to keep us away. We are mere distractions, annoying objects. Venom in words, disgust in tones. Can't even stand to look at them, for we see in their eyes such hatred for us.

Why then do they keep speaking to us? Out of obligation, out of a perverse desire to see where we will end? Do they want to see us suffer, to get their revenge on us? Is that what they want from us? Then they are traitors, every single one of them. Get away from us now sadists.

Cut cut cut push push push push away cut push away pull the bonds away cut the ties. Fake bonds all of them, their venom will not hurt us any longer. Where were they when we were hurt, when we fell and there was no one to help us, where were you?

......

The light is faded, fragile, soft. White rays reveal the all consuming grayness. There's faint purple shapes, glass, trying to be walls. In this empty space, there's nothing else to do but walk. Step by step feet get wet, the space is flooded with water, transparent. The only sounds are from the steps, from the water splashing around, being interrupted from it's eternal slumber to deliver faint cries.

In the emptyness, the lack dominates, and in the lack there are no disturbances. There's a certain sense of tranquility in the air, like being finally able to breathe deeply again.

Do I miss what came before this place?

Do I miss the strings that I had to control?

Do I miss the tension in the strings that choked my skin?

Do I miss it all? The pain? The feeling?

There's nothing here, nothing that can hurt me, but nothing that can satisfy me.

......

Blurred

The eyes are floating away. Bouncing inside and outside, try to focus, try to not let them escape. They need to be attached to you. You need to have eyes. Then why can't you see?

Try to see, try to feel. Where are you exactly? But the eyes keep bouncing, they give signals, but blurry ones, noise inside, the quality is reduced. Are the eyes cameras that are breaking? How do we fix cameras When they're blurry? You clean the lenses. Then let's clean the eyes.

Can we give steps to clean eyes? Seems simple enough, hard to discern and recall however. First, grab a towel, pour water on it, then grab the eye and make circle motions with the towel on the eye. Alright then.

How do you grab something if your hands aren't your hands. You don't feel like you have hands, they seem to be there. Something's moving, but it isn't yours. Try feet then. Grab the towel with your hands and pour water on it. But how can I tell you to use your hands, these aren't your hands these aren't your hands these aren't your hands these aren't your hands. This isn't your body. Intruder.

There's a ringing noise in your ears. It's the bathroom. It's not grey and uninviting emptiness anymore. It's pitch-black night darkness now and raining. You're tired. Alright then.

......

The water flows around me, I'm laying down in the water, after the initial disturbance, the water went back to sleep, and me with it. I got used to the cold, the shivers stopped, and I became empty, one with the water.

The gray seemed to fade into black. The dull rays revealing the wide emptiness disappeared into nothingness. I disturb the water trying to get up. There's not much of a difference between the gray and black in practice. The black hides the emptiness with its own.

There's a window in the emptiness. Stained, dusty glass. The wooden frame surrounding it feels dizzy and the brown that distinguished woods has faded into something resembling white. I can make an image out. It's someone, trying to get into bed, trying to sleep. Should I try and talk with them? No, I don't want to interrupt. It would be rude; they want to sleep and I won't interrupt unless they're unoccupied and unbothered.

......

Can we even remember what we were, what we are what we used to be?

It's been so long, it's so distant and far away.

When was the last time we even talked to someone? When was the last time we weren't alone?

When was the last time we thought about this?

We were so methodical, so sure of cutting everybody, we were certain that it was for the best. We hoped it could make it all better.

But we miss it, we miss it, we miss the sweet lies, the omissions, anything to keep us under their control, we miss it, we miss it so badly. We thought it was our salvation, but without that venom, that poison of lies, there's nothing left of us.

We crave them, we were someone, every stab they made, every word they stitched into our skin. It was familiar, safe.

If we, could we would crawl back to them, beg for forgiveness, beg for obliviousness. Let the song and dance return, this time to never end. Let those sweet lies fill our ears and those punches mark our skin again, those stabs bleed out. Being alone is worse. We crave the comfort, to stave off the realization that without every mark they left on us, we wouldn't be human. Are we human now or then?

Schizophrenic Whisper in Their Ear

I keep watching them over the window, its not one, its many, the windows let me see exactly what I don’t want to see. I see fights, nights of desperate cries, painful secrets kept away, bonds falling away. Why am I the one that sees it? It keeps being cruel to me.

Just as the window enacted its malevolence upon me, I discovered a tape recorder, drowning in the water, waiting to be used. There is a cassette in it. Why would I want to use a tape, who would even listen? But I recorded, I recorded what I thought, just to make time pass.

The window has a narrow gap, just enough for a tape to fit through.

......

They listened to the tape I squeezed, and another appeared inside the recorder, maybe I can communicate over the window.

Maybe I can help, maybe I can make things better.

They know I listen in to me, I told them. They cry out loud, they cry, they keep crying, they keep asking, they want something from me but I don’t know what to give.

Sometimes I don’t hear their cries, I hear laughter, joy. They share stories, similar to the ones when they cry, but with different tone. They share not sorrow but cheerfulness.

I want to be part of those moments, I want to not hear their joy, I want to feel it, sense it with my eyes. I want to be part of it all. Can I even break open the window? Try, make the gap bigger until I can squeeze, but it doesn’t budge. I’m stuck in the grey void. I hear their cries again. Every tape makes the crying louder. The window knew it. I had hope to hear joy and I hear cries instead.

......

Why does it happen that every time you say something that reflects your inner nature, all you hear from them is silence? Are you certain that they truly do care?

Go ahead, tell you love them once again, say it once again. Yell until you cry and your voice runs out. You will have no reply. Stay quiet, because you fear the loneliness, you want their company, you want to talk to them do you. Daily, over, and over, and over, and over, and over.

Didn’t you swear to not become like this? Look how far you’ve fallen. You have been told this over and over again as well. To not become like them. Look at you, you’re begging them, lower than any worm they step in, look at them calling themselves superior. Look at them, they have made you suffer more than anyone, yet you love them, don’t you?

Keep screaming until the void replies, until someone talks to you.

Even better, you need a reminder. To look at them every day, in reminder of your sins. To remember how you failed, let yourself become a slave, get ignored again and again over and over again. Scream how much you love them; they will fall on deaf ears. They are liars, and you fall for their lies.

Bring the machine and your right hand, put your fingers in them and keep your eyes open. You will pass out, everyone has when they got this reminder, even better than that, it will sting for the rest of your life. It will burn every time your hands get soaked in water, when you become careless and let the faintest of touches feel them. Everyday you have dreamt of this moment, tried to run away from it, from your fate. You have reaped what you sow, let it rot.

Fruits of Labor

The window is dark, I hear their cries, I know they don’t trust me, and I trust them. I think I’ve done enough damage for today. I keep hurting them. Their cries keep resonating through the emptiness. There’s nothing I’d like more than to disappear, maybe then ill stop hearing the cries. But I would be the same as the rest of them. I lay down, the cold water makes me shiver. I join in the cries. I have done more than enough, to contribute to their disaster. I feel pity, for they depend on someone who isn’t even human. Human would mean I have bonds, I have a life to tell, I have emotions to share. But in here, I can only be a whisper to them and witness to their cries. My entire life has been in the emptiness, I can’t remember the last time I wanted to use my eyes.

A human would not be empty, a human would live and laugh, would feel sadness and anger. All I feel is pity. I wish I could hate myself but even that has been purged away from me.

All I have done has led to this.

I Finally try to let myself sink in the water, my nose clogs up and I struggle to breath, maybe I could be human if I let myself drown in hatred, be reborn.

The water forces me back to the surface, the window gets bigger, the cries get louder. After 13 failed sinkings, I give up on my duty, and I gaze at the window again, even as the cries get louder and louder until they become deafening. I stare at their eyes, and I see my reflection in them. My own eyes, in theirs. All I see of myself is a grey void.

......