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Between the Black

Depression... I have reached a bridge in my life. An unstable, drooping crosswalk, that is brittle- it is hanging me, and bringing me closer and closer to the inescapable... it is low-hanging, and incapable of supporting my 120 pounds (which is steadily dropping). Every moment another layer of the dust it is composed of is blown away by the winds that sway not only the ropes and support of the walkway, but myself.

How did I get here... well, I was looking for shelter from the wind, and the only way I could find was... well... the beaten path. The path my allies had discovered, and trodden to make it as worn down and as plain as it is now. Happy they were, after they emerged from the darkness. Or, they appeared so. But now I realize that, deep down, there is no way one could recover from this. It will haunt me, because the path I decided to take was one of no return. The horrible treachery and suspense I feel now are feeling that are not well forgotten. And now I realize that, deep down, all of my friends are still trapped in the abyss that is calling to me from below, daring me to take another step. I am certain they fell in- of course they did. They are captives of their own decisions, and I am going the same way. I know the bridge won't hold up if I continue another step.

Oh, but how do I stop. The wind... It is so harsh! And there is something I know is at the other end of this endless runway- I want to know! What is it, my friends say it is wonderful... happiness is what they called it. But how can happiness be found here, in the middle of the cold, the eye of the storm? It is an illusion, I see that now... I guess I am wiser then them, those who are still fooling themselves, thinking they have reached their homes, their families and are enjoying life yet agin. Now I know it was all a trick, and that this path was suggested to me by those who don't care if I get caught in the storm, or fall on my way through the woods. Traitors, or impostors, if you'd rather.

I silently say goodbye in my head, say a special prayer, and ask God to send it to my children, and my wife. If they receive it, they will know I love them, because I put every ounce of energy I have into that message. I sealed it up, and sent it away with the last remnants of my moral life, my last ounce of love. Because if I have really taken the route of no return, I will surely not come out of this situation alive... or at least, not the same person at all.

My consciousness is preforming such, while my subconscious is sending my body messages... weird pulses, my blood rushing in my veins. Make it stop! No, I need it to! Taking any action I need to push back the fury and convulsions of the sickness I have caught in the cold, I take another step forward, and a large one. The movement sways the bridge in a lethargic, drunken way. My foot slides on the decaying terrain, and slips me up- on the ground, I breath not my last breath, but my last breath in the life of knowledge I once lived in. And I prepare for impact... my route to typical adulthood is complete.
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In between the black is where we are now... the eye of the storm. The world is dandy and fine- see, you are working at a computer, carefree, enjoying whatever kind of day you're having. But look left and right- use your eyes, man! We are unaware of the darkness surrounding us- if we just put down a foot to either side, we will discover the life of drugs and depression that is new to us, and just as addicting to us as it is to others. I wrote this figurative piece as a simile to show others the life that people very close to us are living. I don't want anyone else to go that way, because I love God's world. Take care of it. Peace out.



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