In Continuum.

Another One

I pushed down on the Backspace button and allowed the cursor to move backwards, erasing the lines upon lines that I typed initially. I deleted three attempts for an entry just now about April Fools' Day, unable to type anything remotely cheerful or funny. I'm sorry Kenzie, I really cannot type anything happy, I'm not built that way I guess, at least not now. When there is a battle of emotion in one's head, the emotions like anger and love do not co-exist, but they cancel out on each other until there is nothing left. Just a broken and battered wasteland left in the fog of the aftermath, ghosts of the distant memories lingering upon the dead corpses and feasting on rotting flesh. That is the image in my head right now, and for some reason I wish to lay down and go to sleep forever.

I allowed my fingers to dance on the Delete key, tap-dancing upon the button until everything resumed to their most elemental form. The blank screen stared back at me again, asking me the question over and over again: What's next? When there is a conflict in existence of emotions, which side is going to win the battle? Numbness ensues the war, and here I am feeling nothing but utter destruction, broken and dismantled. I need to find my eyes, so that I can find my hands to find my heart. But everything is taking so bloody long, everything is taking their own bitter time. I know I am going to get around this in due time, but why is the search for my broken limbs so hard and long?

Change is the only constant in this universe they say, and it even applies in human personalities as well. We fall for a person and we dearly wish that they will remain this way no matter what. But they almost always change into a different person, and it is always up to you to adapt, to compromise, to love all over again. But there is a limited number of times that repetition can be sustained before anything before the tension is broken and the emotions unleashed. It's a deadly and vicious cycle that happens over and over until your emotions become merely recycled materials of the last emotional outflow. Like the past three entries I typed, they don't mean anything anymore.

The last time I deleted an entry, it was a rainy day a little more than a month ago. I remember the red and white checkered tablecloths soaked in the rain and the upturned chairs on the tables. I remember the people running for shelters on the streets and the way the rain seemed to have been falling upwards as they impacted the ground. I remember how I felt on that day, and like today I was totally empty and numb, as if a giant shovel was shoved into my chest and made a hole out of it. There is a alien feeling to everything now, looking upon someone with this look of familiarity yet strangeness. This is a stranger I am looking at, a person whom I have no recognition of. And no, in this stranger I do not take comfort in.

So the ghosts of the distant memories continue to search amidst the dead bodies, and I wonder if they are going to dig up any of my broken parts. I can see them now, hungry-eyed and desperate, poisonous drool pouring from between their tapered teeth. Skin plagued with rotten patches of dead flesh, turning green and black and emitting a foul stench into the air. Choking, the only sound I managed to make for my future-self to recognize and find me, before I am fully devoured by these ugly memories of the past.

April Fools' is supposed to be a day of jokes and pranks, at least that was what we used to do in Primary School. April Fools' was almost holy to us, sacred in a sense because we could afford to be silly and stupid on this day. Those were the good days, whatever happened to those? The meaning of April Fools' has been stripped from me, leaving me with this reminder of just what a fool I was for the last months, investing my everything to this emotion-devouring monster.

Before I lose control again, I think I am going out of the house for a breather. Breathe in the air that doesn't belong to the stale ones in my home. At least it might keep my mind off things, and who knows? I might run away once and for all from this field of dead emotions. Go to hell monster, along with everything else that I own. Go to hell.