Time fades the knowledge, the fear, the remembrance of how potent the power of the dark thoughts and feelings were on your heart. Careless, you turn to the dark and dusty corner, half forgotten, open the box, rummage, and pull out a memory. You share it and laugh.
Then later, at night, when the guests have gone, and you are alone with your ghosts, the unmentionables, you wrestle with the memories. And the tears. You know you wont let them win. You know you wont let them in, but a part of you, traitor, weak, half wishes you could.
Do you! Do you really wish you could let go, just once? Let the day fall heedless around. Let the world dissolve. In the light of an aging sun. Wallow inside the trunk Of old memories, yesterdays, selves, for a While. Ghosts and skeletons, packed any how, shoved into carefully concealed corners, along dusty attic walls.
Have you ever spend hours, days even, just spilled out on a chair, looking out of the window, into nothing. Mind too tired to think. Too tired of seeing the same self in the mirror. The coward-warrior. The impotent-dreamer.
For tonight, these are the memories I found:
chameleon master of trickery masks
Dusk to Dawn
In a way, the strangest part of it is this feeling of being seperate, of floating above your 'self', watching it slowly live, breathe, cry, scream ... watching it ever so slowly disintegrate.
I spent three and a half days on this chair. Staring at the walls, the screen, or out of the window.
In my dreams she stands over my head: a macabre grinning skeleton. Her voice is loud and has a metallic sound. She says she's come to clear accounts. She wants a report of what I have done, with the life she bought me with her's.
Spiderman 3, he peeled the black suit off. Could you? Or does it stick after having been on too long. There's always a choice, he said. Like Batman. You are what you want to be as much as what you are ... the beast, listens and chuckles at your naivette.
If you had one 'friend', life would be worth living. Do you? And how do you define friend?