Tuesday, October 4, 2005

   I. Ascent of the Fallen into the Grip of Silence
Impressions of sentiments left with snapshots from my memory, this is all I have to work with now. The intense echo of sanity long since faded carves the hollows out from beneath my eyes. Something less malleable than that caused such discord in its threadbare weft; the holes having been torn too reckless and erratically to have been anything of a visible physique. So wasteful are these inane escapisms as I’ve seen and known. Can one discern the impact of this neglect before the silence becomes ruin?
The first defeat I received left me alienated enough to not realize the damage it had left behind. The residual wound that I now know was composed of a webbing of pressure fissures that separated my conscious thought into several different sectors. Though barely detectible they did not interrupt my daily thought pattern in a way that concerned me greatly. My inner health already waning from the stresses that caused this fracturing, my mind was set on rehabilitation. Though the notion seemed appropriate for the situation, my attempts were impugned by my surroundings. Situational imbalance deemed itself a worthy adversary in every aspect. Guilt had worn me thin and abraded the cracks in consciousness that I had no time to see. It accounted for much of the breaking that occurred in the coming days. Since I was previously benumbed past the point of recklessness anyhow, it is both no wonder it happened and a wonder how it did not happen faster.
I was incapacitated by the imbalance that pursued me in those final days before the Shattering. I was taken aback by the lingering adversity in the recollection of the first true feelings of destitution that I had ever encountered on such a degree as this. It succeeded in wearing me down on the inside. It took the life-force meant for healing and averted it to the guilt that I felt when I thought on my failure. I tried so hard to untangle the situation to better comprehend it, all I received for it was a terrified feeling of foreboding. I was hardly a victim; more was I a self afflicted prisoner of time brought slowly in its vassalage. I was restlessly surrendering to incoherence, without the least knowledge of its occurrence.
I began to lose sight of everything because the brilliant, vivid colors of memory so clouded my vision. Thence, as it were, the ideal battlefield was laid for my self destruction. A weak state that had great potential to only become worse gave the cue for the blitz krieg that voided me temporarily out of existence. The onslaught began and I had commenced in killing myself from the inside out.
My lack of consistency left me shaken and the meticulous web of pressure fractures that I had already sustained bore me no footing in the battle. My eyes were opened wide and yet I could not see through these colors surrounding me. This veritable rainbow of blurred color was the first of my snapshots and the only one with a chronology, though the others lack none of its vitality. This was how they saw and the only time they looked together, without distortion, they were still me and that’s what I saw.
They came at me spasmodically at first, biting the frightened hand of their master who could not see them. Yet, I was aware of their presence and the harm they inflicted was barely felt due to the callousness I’d acquired for such pains. They weaned me from reality and cast me out on their own accord, which was few and far between. I was exiled to a landscape of endless sand and rocks by those that were born of my broken heart. Whom I breathed life into myself through my own shear terror brought on by this guilt that distracted me. Little did they realize that the corner, into which I was thrown, where I cringed in disconnected wholeness, was where I would stay in my fatigue. All the whorling of the chaotic deadness that was my beloved confidence would keep me going.
I was aware of my deterioration of mind but challenging what you can’t see proves to be entirely vain. I knew I had to catch up with myself. By the time I thought this the soul flouting jolt was dealt to me and I shrank further into my corner beneath the rocks in my sand scoured world. This was the blow that caused the Shattering. My will gone, my determination vague, everything was undistinguishable beneath all the broken glass. I let myself fall even more sincerely into the anesthetic haze that shrouded me through every waking hour, fore again I had failed.
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