Others
There are so many dreams that I dream.
Dreams of relationships I will never have with people I will never know. As the rain beat against the large panes of glass, my thoughts slowly dripped their way down my spine the way the beads of water slipped down the window, building, picking up emotion on the way down until big fat drops of loneliness trickled into my stomach.
I went out today, sat in the car. Turned off the radio and listened- the wheels against the wet pavement, the rain beating against the windshield. I did not know what I had expected to find, but I was disappointed when I returned home empty- handed and empty- hearted.
I thought of Others.
I thought of the boy that sits quietly by himself. No one dares to approach him because he is a silent threat, waiting to explode; a sensitive landmine. I want to go to him, I want to touch him. I want to smell him, feel him, taste him. I want him to know that I am real and that he is real. I want him to come out of the shadows and present himself to this disgusting, secluded little world. I want him to explode into a shower of anger and fear and coat the walls with sacrificial blood- for a new sound to ricochet off the walls and make people hold their heads in pain. I thought of the sadness in his eyes. I recognized that sadness. How I wish I could just explode- see that graceful flow of deepest red pool in an agonizing beauty as people’s eyes are opened to reality.
I thought of many others. I thought of the boy surrounded by people telling him who he is when in his heart he has no idea. I thought of the girl who smiles at everyone, says the sweetest things, makes everyone else in the world feel like they are worth something, but is dying inside, an agonizing sense of emptiness eats her. I think of the people I do not know. I think of the people that are closest to me. I realize that I do not know them. I am alone.
The room gets progressively darker as the clouds swallow the last rays of sunshine. Rain starts an attack on the panes and tries to reach me, to pelt my skin with tiny blows of wet bullets. I turn away from the window. I watch the silhouette of the girl on the far wall. She shrinks down. I feel her eyes close and sleep melts the chill. Sleep swallows sallow skin as the burning of Others consumes my mind and kindles dreams. The last hope is for sun to caress the damp pale skin of cheek and to awake to a clean world. There may be new chance for them.
And If I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take...