The eternality in our ephemerality

Chapter 4. If Drapetomania is the urge to run away, then I am a drapetomaniac.

The coherency of my breath remained in the lonely depths of perishness. A solid strain of incoherency was the only numbness the pain could not yet unwrap itself in, like an abstract painting you see, but cant understand, at least not fully. I walked out the door, silent. The neighbours saw me flee, but they, as surprised as I was, glanced at my sight and saw my wrecked mess. For once, they saw a tormented, sad, wretched ale. One glance was enough for them to know that my mental sanity, as my heart was, was torn into tiny, minuscule pieces I was trying to piece together with the glue that had been on the cover since forever.

Guttural sounds, like those of a muzzled dog, also snorted at my fragility: my mind trying to muzzle them as my hands covered my trembling lips. I was too of a coward to see the neighbours again. I simply walked faster, with my eyesight pinned to the ground as my hands covered my head with a hoodie, soaken in tears.

A flaw all women and men are predisposed to suffer as it is even a part of human anatomy: the fragment equal in desire and destruction; the stressful organ that has the ability to keep us alive and force us to a collapse when it is scorched.

An irrevocable, most insignificant and yet with all significance, wound that appears to be incrusted in my skin and mingled with my veins; open and pouring its liquid in sobriety with no intent as to reveal the true source of where all the preoccupation came from.

The thoughtfulness of my mind and dramatic imposition of my heart had surfaced to be in peace. My tears appeard to be drying, my eyes slowly calming their fluttering just as my heart to slow down, but of course that is the ignorant thought a teenage girl might always be acquainted with. Maybe if I tried harder, if I acted more mature, if I saw through his mask and protected my heart, then I could have been spared....

Spared of a tormented drowning I had no idea was happening. Spared of an untruthful hallucination: If I had seen beyond the pastel colours I painted with my lips and glistened with roaming cheeks.... Then at least whatever we had, whatever I had invented, would have been true.

He jumped in desperation and swam in panic from a boat that was gliding the water like the first glance we ever had: safe from passion and exceedingly calm.

Such indecorous bliss might as well be confused by a flaming crisp.

I thought my arms were secure, I believed he had tied the rope....until the bitter diluted drench swallowed me entirely; tears larger than ever shed and sorrows grander than what my heart has ever felt.

My eyes are now open and the dream has ended.

I continued to walk in a hurry, both arms wide open as each foot raced against the other. For no reason, an inexplicable reason, I was running away from home. From the safety and warmth my house provided in cold autumn rains, from the delights of a warm drink after the rain has soaked you entirely. I was running from my parents love, the only people who truly and incomprehensibly love me.

I have no reason to run away, frankly I am incredibly stupid in doing so....then why is it that I am doing it? I had always prided myself in the thought i was smarter than those fools, and here I was, acting exactly like a selfish rich girl who's petty heart had just been stomped over.

I stopped for a moment, bracing my run into a firm end and attempted to think for a moment, to be reasonable. I commenced by shutting my eyes and attempting to breathe....it was dumb for me to do so: my neurons were drowned in a drug, a frenzy, just like my ribs now were engulfed by acid, a hideous, mortifying acid that cramped my muscles into one stinging ache.

"Ouch" I mumbled.

The stupid tears, who had no reason for existing, rose again with indecorum.

I stamped my feet as an angry child, because to be truthful I was one.