Why do I remember the darkest of days when darkness implies hard to find or hard to see?
I do not want the light to find me, because what if it takes away the essence of me, what makes me?
Walking a thin line I look down to see I am up so high.
Fear covers me and I close my eyes tight as if I won’t be there anymore.
What a strange thing to do; close your eyes when you’re
walking on a tight rope suspended in air.
I stand paralyzed and look down. I look to my right and to my left.
The devil is with me. He sees that I recognize him. He doesn’t care that I’m petrified for my very existence one more time.
It’s just another day at the office for him. Or is it night? I’ve lost track of days. There is no routine; only the rituals of the devil and his slave.
The pull to numb the pain is the greatest, strongest emotion I have ever felt.
But the anguish and the need to run away are even stronger.
As my mind races ahead of my body, I am unable to move. My fear reminds me of the tightrope I am perched upon.
I can’t feel myself anymore.
I let myself fall.