The Perfect Game

I Know I've Been Gone For A While, But I'm Back! This Is A Little Something I Wrote A While Ago, But PLEASE Read It.

We're all trying to be extraordinary, that all of the extraordinary becomes dull, and, well....Ordinary....

                    It's such an inescapable cycle, really. We're all stuck, trying to figure out who we are. Why we even exist. Why our creators left us to be what we are. The questions are endless. The why, the how, the who, the what, the when, and where are all unnecessary. Petty, distracting you from the truth. Sifting through all of the lies and bullshit is pretty tough. It seems like the smarter you are, the more delusional and brainwashed you are. Searching for the why is reasonless. Pointless. Although all of us are mysteriously hardwired to, at some point or another to question or ask why. Why? That's just the point though. You never stop asking. Can't stop yourself from asking. That stupid question; its always been there. Engrained in each and every one of us. It's inevitable. So why not just let it happen? This is a game we're bound to lose. It always has been for ages. We are bound down to our very being, our essence. Bound and hung by the woven threads of destiny, Binding our limbs against our bodies, just to see which way we'll squirm. How we'll struggle and writhe against it'd coils. As if that wretched fate isn't enough, we get ensnared. Tied to the gallows of our own creation with a noose slipped tightly around our necks.

                          Waiting for the mythological 'Executioner' to pull the lever that pulls the ever- patiently waiting trap door below. In an instant, the platform beneath me....is gone. I hang, swaying and dangling in mid-air. The rope, hadn't been tied properly.... So I count.....Not one of the four bones that are the human neck broke. Each of them intact, protecting the bundle of nerves beneath. Sealing in the serum of life and knowledge that flowed freely through the tangles and strained mess.

                           The rough fibers dig at my delicate skin, leaving purple welts. 1.....2.....3.....4....

                The tension is burning, crushing down on any space left for air to linger. I can feel the blood...as it pounds away at my ears in deafening whooshing sound.....This is it, the end is nearer than I suspect..... 5.....6.....7....This is what I've been yearning for my entire life, craving it like lungs crave and ache for oxygen...8...9...10...11... Images of humanoid figures flit past my eyes like distorted ghosts, a smudgy gray. The pounding in my ears is excruciating, reaching a new thrum comparable to that of a hummingbird; it's wings scraping against my skull.....12...13...14... I just wish that I could've told him I'm sorry.....That I wasn't good enough or strong enough to be there....I never was enough...15..16..17.. Memories of us float by , foggy and broken up..I wanted more than this.. I wanted the boyfriend that loved me for what I was entirely, and kept me safe...18..19..20...

                 Everything's so painful.. sharp pains claw and burn their way through my organs, one by one snuffing them out.... Like birthday candles.....Birthday candles, leaving trails of wispy smoke. Twitches and tremors surge through my fingertips, jolting full-blown seizures to life through out my suspended body. Tensing and relaxing over and over again in waves, involuntary last efforts of the 'fight-or-flight' instinct before everything ceases. My pulse wavers...slowing and shuddering. The seizures stop. My fingers are numb, the same feeling works it's way across other muscles. Pure bliss compared to the unrelenting hold on my raw, throat. It feels as if someone stuffed hot coals inside, charring away at the flesh inside....Maybe they did....I don't know....

                   A loud thump echoes....Hearing, the last remaining sense....Slowly, the rope is eased off, as gentle fingers caress it from the dip it made, nursing me back to health. I can feel them, cool yet warm at the same time, moving their way across my battered and bruised skin.... It probably looks like I've been someone's punching bag. Almost literally, in a sense. God, I feel so ashamed....I'm such a mess.

                 "Come on, come on....." The voice is desperate, impatient. "Move God damn it!!!!"