Get Your Own Visitor Globe!

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Ever have a day like this?




DAYS OF DARK AND LIGHT


A collaboration by Waterwolf and Badoracle




Some days the sun may shine, but there is no warmth and no light. And some nights only come filled with ghosts.

You don’t have to understand. In fact, it’s better if you don’t.

Ever have a day like this?

You wake up in a cold sweat, but can't exactly remember what your dream was? So you resign yourself to get up, but now, you’re pissed off at the whole world.

Pain racks your body right down to your very soul and your dark mood deepens. You smile and kiss your wife all the while inside you feel adrift and lost. Try as you might, you can't seem to shake off the gloominess that has settled in deep and heavy – like sand blown in from somewhere across the world. It heaps against the doors in your mind. They won’t open against the weight.

Your day stutters and skips and you stagger through with the energy and vigor of a man making the last walk – the one that ends in a noose. Sounds and smells so familiar, tie you to a place you’ve wished a million times forgotten, but which never leaves you. It finds a way to cling inside your head, crouching in the dark corners - a formless shape with shiny feral eyes, waiting for the mind to slew sideways, like a heavy vehicle on black ice.

Then all at once, it’s with you. And it uses memories like the worse kind of thief, enveloping you in a place, that although you hated, you can't help but smile remembering old friends – your buddies, and lighthearted moments you shared with them; pranks and laughter, stupid stunts; the ridiculous in a land of anarchy and insanity.

Then you’re hit while you’re off-balance. The shadow sweeps over you – its’ true nature, huge and winged, somewhere above and always out of sight, but no less cold. You can’t help but remember something that happened - a certain buddy that didn't return with you – hell so many that will never be seen or heard from again. Like the sand heaping up against those doors in your mind, the lost are numbered, as are the grains of sand. They have become the eternal.

Your day just got worse.

You shake your head, physically hoping to shake that feeling as you glance at the clock and realize you've only been up for 30 minutes.

You want to puke, you want to hit something. Instead, you shake your head and try doing something else. The shadow refuses to return to its’ hiding place. The dark mood doesn't lift. But you find a sturdy box you can stuff both of them into. You mentally keep a hand on it – just hold it there. It struggles whispering and slipping inside. It flutters and jumps against the lid like an insect - like a spider. You man-up and carry on.

Things begin to fall into step as your day continues. Then you take a ride to run errands, and you lose your grip on the box. Your thoughts have wandered and that thing has slipped out now. It’s riding shotgun, grinning – and you can't really remember what you were thinking about. You’re miles away from your original destination. The anger leaps forward, white hot and total.

A blink later and you’re somehow finished with your errands. You retreat back to your safe zone, your home - your fort!

Close the curtains. I don't want to see anyone or anything. The smell of someone cooking outdoors slips in anyway, and now you're no longer home. That smell – damn it - I know that smell.

But I'm sitting in my truck, parked in the driveway. Not inside the house at all. Neighbors try not to look at you, as you slam the door - as you glance at your watch. It’s 1700 and the entire day is gone. You go back out to the truck and lay your hand on the hood. The engine is cold. You must have been
sitting in it for quite a while. There’s a wave of familiar embarrassment.

Must have been sitting there like a dummy, all that time. You find your way back to the door. Sitting in front of the TV, you pray for the day to be over. On the glowing screen you watch the dumbest shit ever, just to shut off the brain. You eat out of habit. Food loses its’ taste and texture. You’re filled with sounds, smells and faces of a place and time gone – yet still alive in you.

Time for bed. Delivered to another night when your wish is for peaceful sleep and a tomorrow different and better.

Don’t try to understand. It’s better if you don’t. I will thank God for all of it – the good and the bad.

And I’ll pray for the rest.

1 comment:

  1. hifrommes.i thankyou for this great movin beautiful frightnin writin work..so truthful sad and smile bringin..tears too isathanks
    spadmaccool

    ReplyDelete

Want to see something which will pick up your spirits?

Have a look at this link if you're feeling a bit down...

There was an error in this gadget

Blog Farm

”The