Eclectic Lesson

The Abyss | August 16, 2011

There´s a song I used to sing back when I was younger. It is calm and beautiful, but its notes are so feeble. They hang around in this gray-lit atmosphere and linger quietly before fading into dust. I still hear it every now and then; it echoes inside my ears, and speaks of some greater feeling I have never known.

There’s a book buried beneath my memories. Whose pages have flown time after time into the neglected corners of my mind. Whose pages have flown again and again and landed shredded beyond all recognition. But the ones that remain still tell the story that I wish to hide; that one time, I did believe in a future where she and I could live in most blissful fantasy. And such were my futile attempts to make it all come true.

There’s a door I keep locked in the back of my head, behind dark walls and twisting corridors that smell of old. It leads to a cliff and an abyss which bottom cannot be perceived. A place from which I gaze down with thoughts of abandon, two steps away from that absolute exit.

Never have I lunged into that abyss. It remains fixed only in my thoughts, scaring every bit of my body to its core. And how strange it is to be condemned to the summit- and hope that there is some kind of grim end at the bottom. For it would be so very tragic that I remained forever terrified of that jump, when there was nothing to fear at all.

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