Railroads and Runaways

Where do we go from here... Twitchy, buzzing, anxious. Confronting reality can have that effect.

Smacks you right in the face, swift as firm as unpleasant.

"You, Young Man, lack the capacity to love."

That's what he told me.

It's not that I can't express love or feel warmth... Or attachment. But my ability to love without apprehension is gone, as is the freedom to enter a state of "in love.”

I can't say that I have put my best foot forward at every turn, but attempts were made. Changes implemented. Thought given.

My mind opened, at least a crack, but my heart won’t. I don't know that it ever will. I don't fear never finding love, but that I'll forever have to choose it. Really choose it. Every day.

Start the machine, watch patiently as the screen brightens. Load the program, Love Follow the instructions, go to bed, wake up, then wash, rinse, and repeat.

Ad infinitum.

What other choice do I have though?

I was a fool, playing in the dark and it swallowed me. To escape alive; it took a literal act of God. Now I am frozen in time. Like the Iceman. There is no way forward. The storm rages on and on and on, until finally, there's nothing left but a whisper of what was.

The whispers, I still hear. They rumble through the fabric of my soul. Taunting. Reminding.

Better not to fight it, lest I welcome the screams, the sorrow, the pain. Lest I welcome the truth... I turned into her, 1000x over. 1000x worse.

On paper, the story is unforgivable. In my mind..?

Wouldn't it be easier to have been cast aside? Wouldn't it have been simpler to have been dismissed?

But no—there was acceptance. An honest dare to moving forward and bull rush through the truth that splintered reality for the both of us.

Yet, here I am remained.

How do I go forward when I don't want to?

Inertia has carried me far enough. I have no need for anything more. Drink, smoke, and small victories along the way.

Here's to me… Here's to the one that didn't get away.

And here's to thee—it need not cross that line. It need not shatter us.

Tip toe, tip toe. Until the end of time, I suppose.