There will come a day when you will start to scream for someone to save you.

You have always excelled in the art of delegation, your negligence the most effective scapegoat you could have constructed.

This time, the 'x' is on your door.

Affected pain suddenly becomes real as you begin to understand you are no longer a sure thing.

The anesthesia is beginning to wear off.

You keep proclaiming that pain is a reminder that you're still alive, but in your case it's a reminder of your inability to survive. That you are soft. That you are inappropriate.

The only kind of wounds you have are self-inflicted and designed to not leave a scar.

After all, nothing but the best for you.

These are the physical manifestations of loss and longing, the by-product of bad decisions, poor taste and your particular kind of colour-blindness.

Using your best Freudian strategy, you preempted your own downfall but that won't stop the invasion.

You should have stayed awake in class.

It isn't that you're empty inside -it's that you don't have anything worth bartering for.

You are a stockpile of inferior goods.

You've played the game for so long that you've gone off the board, the rules have changed, the competition isn't friendly and the winner takes nothing but the kingship of a wasteland of potential.

You are nothing that you recognize.

It doesn't matter what you know or who you know when the better angels of your nature have left and you can't bargain with the devils.

You are an end with no beginning.

You are an absentee landlord.

If you wonder why you're still alive, it's because they're trying to determine the best way to kill you.

You are learning compassion far too late.

You are terrified you have nothing to offer this world, but it's a moot point, since you were never good at sharing.

Whatever happens, you know it will be prolonged and messy. You couldn't afford the cost of a honourable death. You've only ever had a closed casket.

There will come a day when you will start to scream for someone to save you.

On that day you will realize that this is a war zone and you're just another casualty.



No one can save you.

Because you weren't ever really there to begin with.

11/30/2009

Author's Note: Constructed with various fragments, words, sentences and thoughts that had been collecting for awhile -not written for anyone in particular but more for the ever-growing number of people who take refuge in apathy and ceaselessly practice the art of negating their own existence.

Posted on 11/30/2009
Copyright © 2024 Therese Elaine