The Path

The Beginning of the End

She muffled a silent scream that racked her body, mind and soul with agony. Hoping that she was on fire or some other horrid form of slow and excruciating torture she sat abruptly in bed. As she glanced over her body and sheets, the lack of hungry flames seemed to be more like hell than heaven. Now that she was fully awake she had to deal with the mental anguish, the nightmare that was nothing compared to what she endured each and every waking moment. Yet, no one in her daily life seemed to notice. She wondered if she was merely that talented of an actress or if they just didn’t give a damn. She was hoping it was the former. If the latter were true then there really was no reason for her to go on acting. At times she wished she could simply ask. But then that would negate her reason for acting, too. 

Well, either way, she had to get up and go about the charade for another day. Damn, why couldn’t she just not wake up today? Not really a suicidal thought, just a weary one. Most days she dealt with the searing ache in her chest like it was a fire that pushed her forward, to better make sure no one else ever had to feel that pain. Today already seemed to be one of the worse ones. No, she remembered ones much worse, where the wretchedness felt as if there were a black hole in her chest, one that everyone must be able to see but be too polite to mention. These black hole days, forever sucking every emotion into itself until she felt like she was the walking dead, the decrepit living, somewhere in between where every feeling that ever was had been drawn into her own chest and she had to feel them all at once, all while smiling when she really felt like howling. 

However, this morning seemed different. She couldn’t put her finger on it; she just sensed a conclusion on the horizon, not a good one, but not really a bad ending either. How to explain it, hmmm, well you could say it was like when a loved one dies, an elderly family member. Not exactly like a grandmother or such, just when you reach that age where you realize that everyone must die, they must complete the circle. When you realize that you too will one day die, and you are at a time in your life when close friends near you are readying themselves for that inevitable finale. This is how she felt about her own impending "wrap up." That it was long overdue, that she had been doling on long enough and that there were better things waiting for her. Some would be sad to see her go, she wasn’t so sadistic to think that they would cheer when she finally left their realm, but they would all know that she had experienced a complete time frame and that she would authentically be happier somewhere else. 

Where that place would be, she no longer knew. She knew that there had to be something else, the good gods wouldn’t let this be it, right? No, she had been a faithful servant, obedient and only willful when she felt that harm would come to a particular essence. A model archetype. If she didn’t deserve something more, who did? This was not her thought though, just the general consensus of those around her. Unfortunately few knew the torture in her very soul. Some could sense it, those of the utmost perception, she actually was a very talented deceiver, but what no one, not even the designers she felt, knew was how she inflicted this very agony within herself. How she sought it out and welcomed it back home like the prodigal son. Before this pain had erupted in her, she had been nothing. She had forgotten how to feel anything at all, pain, sorrow, joy, happiness, hate, anger, weakness, strength… they all eluded her. But now that she had found the well, she no longer walked among the emotionless who drained life. She did realize some days were better than others. Some days she didn’t have to fake the laugh as much as others, some days she was generally excited about some trivial issue. A good book, a great song on the radio. Generally she put on a farce that none questioned. The ones who did dig deeper into the insanity that she was soon stopped, less they get the infection themselves. Most said she built a wall around herself to protect intruders from further causing her pain, but ironically, she hunted that very type of being out. 

Although all saw what they preferred to see, an emotionally scarred woman, although a pleasant one, they didn’t interfere too much in her life. She was someone who would go above and beyond to help someone in need, but also not one to be trifled with lightly. By and large this was ok with her. Many came to her with their problems, and she fed on them like a calf on his mother. Sucking every raw and blistering emotion she could from them before she helped them come to the common and usually very identifiable answer. Very rarely did she not care to help others with their trifle problems. Still, there were days that the black hole tore her open and she could only sit and rock. Meditation helped at first, but then as she grew accustomed to the ritual the old thoughts crept back. As those days turned to night, she didn’t sleep either, she couldn’t always remember what she dreamt of, she did know that she woke shrieking soundlessly. Her whole cadaver would shake violently with terror at some unseen horror, dreams that wouldn’t dispel with the light. When those dreams stole upon her she knew that the gravitational pull would be strong that day. At times she could use it to her advantage and really help someone, even if they didn’t know they were being helped, but normally she just shied away from the common world and hid in her dark corner.