precarious

The moment the words had left my lips, I felt a cool damp mist fill in the space where my heart used to be.  I became devoid of spirit.  And with my heart and happiness, also left my sorrow and tears.  I had no desire to cry, I had no desire to jump or move or run or complete any task.  I didn’t want to feel nothing, but nothing was better than how I had felt.  People say they want pain over emptiness – how can that be?  How can the knife slowly twisting and turning through the flesh of your heart, as warm blood spills over your mind and blinds your eyes in pain and lust, feel better than this dull numbness that begins to spread over one’s limbs.

She had been my Eden…and I had been the serpent: slowly winding in and out of emotions, manipulating and using my forked tongue to twist situations to my desire – only I was never quite as successful.  I was never able to remove myself, as I was always manipulating my own situations, and to an imperfect outcome.  I had regrets, I felt remorse, and I felt shame – things he knew not of.  And I failed to purge Eden of her goodness.  I failed in my task and instead was broken.  If only this had been the true creation story and we would have never needed saving; I would never needed to be saved.  I wouldn’t need to be saved.

In my precarious position, as I teeter on the edge of a knife, I feel so in place. I would never, ever, reach the side of happiness it seemed, but I was no longer being tugged towards the other – upsetting the balance of the knife, letting it cut my feet.  I was free of cuts, of pain, of suffering.  I was also free of smiles, happiness, laughter.  Oh to be in this position, did I feel yearning or relief?

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