Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Baby's First Break With Reality

One time when I was still living in Melbourne.

I remember it was winter, July. I woke up early and showered and put on my old black jacket and left the house. I had a morning appointment and the sun was lighter than light; it was air and more than air. I had vision like some sort of forest animal, button-black and beady as hell. I saw for miles, and every building was gold, was sharp like a knife. All the people were submerged in light. They moved with grace, herds of them rippling down the sidewalk.

The air was cold but I was not cold. I felt so superfine I thought I would run. "I'm late," I thought to myself, very reasonably. "I should run."

So I ran, and it did not surprise me when the people ahead parted without looking back, because I knew they could sense my urgent intention from behind, and they should make way for me because I was late.

I liked running so much, I didn't want to stop, so I didn't.

I ran down the sidewalk, and I ran across the slip roads, and I stopped for no one and no vehicle, because I was young and immortal and knew I would live, would continue in some shape or form no matter what happened, but that was a moot point because nothing would happen. I just knew it. I was alive and I would continue.

All the time there was a small thin voice that screamed inside my brain, every time I dodged a car or heard the angry blare of a horn, but I knew it must be screaming for joy and nothing else. Because there could be no room for anything else.

When I reached the end of the road - figuratively speaking - and stopped, I was not out of breath. That further confirmed my sudden superhuman ability, my magic that had finally emerged. I felt so good, and so sad, because I knew I would never again experience that kind of innocence, that sense of power from within, without having it smeared with blood and broken talk. I walked back to my apartment, and I wanted to die.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Your posts are getting darker. I hope you are okay.

May-Lynn said...

Thanks for the concern, I'm actually doing great - I mostly use this blog as a dumping ground for writing exercises, bits of inspiration etc. But come to think of it, they do come across as the chronicles of someone sliding into insanity... (!)

Anonymous said...

Good to hear! I was taken aback when I saw the post end with "die" :-)

May-Lynn said...

Haha... then it has achieved its effect. My old Literature teacher would be proud :)