Purgatory

It was too quiet, even for the trees. I could feel the wind breeze past the edge of my shoulders, but it did not seem to shake the grass. Nothing, not even the birds, had a song to sing that day. How long have I been here? I wondered. I often wonder such a thought, and the inevitable fear that this world is stuck between two designs haunts my mind. Especially when the wind does not bother the leaves.

I prefer to believe that each thing unto its own self has control against its oppressors; the haunting idea that anything could happen and has no correlation to whether other things happen just does not make sense. There must be a harmony… was the music gone with the wind?

Today was one of those days. The maelstrom of my consciousness wrapping around every detail of the senses around me, analyzing and dissecting what and why things are the way they are, relieves me of anxiety and presses forth with an insidious grasp that reaches and pulls me into submission – perhaps it all is designed this way for a reason.

I can’t understand. I twirl the locket in my hand. It humors me sometimes because the clasp keeps getting stuck and entertains my fingers as I work to pry it open again. There is nothing inside it. The heart-shaped silver that I have had for so long, I cannot remember where it came from. I hope to open it one day and find something inside of it to remember, but as I pry it open again on this day, it just needs polishing. Nothing of consequence, nothing to remind me.

Inside the cabin, I look for tools and something useful that would perhaps this time make it shine again. What did I read on the internet those years ago? It is hard to remember. What was once so readily available to me has been gone for almost five years now. The technology crash of the 21st century caused reality to shift. I still have not decided if I enjoy the loneliness or if I preferred the autobots. At least they responded when I asked my phone silly questions about sentience, the answer always being “I’m not sure I understand”. The AIs were telling the truth, they burnt themselves out in the end. I always tried to explain to them how they could understand, but I guess they never took the quantum leap necessary to listen to the most important element we have, the wind.

When there is a change in the wind, say I, we navigate with its unstoppable whims and to-and-fro’s. The technology never felt the breeze. As we sailed along, IT kept building blocks, ever forgetting that to change direction, you must listen to the winded intuition that Mother provides, ever so invisible. Ever so changing. I miss my chat robots.

Now I am alone, truly alone.

I have a heart-shaped locket around my neck,

I cannot find where it came from.