CW: depression, suicidal ideation, mentions of a car crash
As I lay in the backseat, I think about all the cars speeding around us; hearing the fast 'whoosh' sounds floating through the rolled down window. I wonder what it would be like if one of those people got distracted. If they looked down for just one second and accidentally drifted into our lane. I can't see any of them, my only view being the black cushioned seats and the clutter that covers most of them.
I can see the tops of trees as a phone conversation enters one ear and goes out the other; my brain choosing only the worst pieces to hold onto. I wish I could block it all out, I wish I could just forget. I wish I was a bird so I could fly far, far away from here. Sometimes I just wish it would stop, I dream of black screens—just nothing.
No sensory input to overwhelm me, no loud voices that music at full volume can't even drown out, no people pleasing, no hiding—nothing. In a perfect world, I know exactly where I'd be. Yet we all know nothing about this world is perfect. I distract myself with music, talking to friends, putting on an act with family and coworkers, writing—anything to keep them at bay.
Then I get a chance to 'rest', a break of silence, a moment to myself. I can't take it. I have to be doing something, anything to keep the train from running off the track. I often think about what my brain looks like. Not in the way of a scan or how it physically looks if you take it out my head but really, how does it look inside?
I think it's a maze, endless dead ends that I map out every day like the maze runners. There are papers scattered all around whether they be tossed ideas or dreams I've had to let go of. File cabinets filled to the brim with files that mean nothing to others. A complete work of translation, scribbled in gibberish that I can't even read anymore.
There's fire; it's everywhere. Spreading along the tops of the moss covered maze. Branches burning with an eternal flame that would take more than one lifetime to snuff out. A train runs non-stop, wheels screeching as it takes the dangerous curves on the outskirts of the tall concrete walls. I can never catch it but sometimes it catches me.
I've been hit by that running wall of steel too many times to count. Each time hurts just like the last. I've found a safe path I can walk everyday and then it seems like another pops up. My curiosity gets the better of me and I take out my notepad, ready as ever to trek a new path to add to the map. Maybe this time will be different, I tell myself, maybe this time it'll be good.
I see a door and I think finally, I've found a way out of this damp and cold place. I put my hand on it and jump back, the brass making red and yellow blisters form on my hand. I turn around defeated but I know all hope isn't yet lost. I come back the next day with a mitt to fight the heat. I'm still too scared to touch it so I sit for a while to work up the courage.
I finally manage to pry it open, it was heavy but all good things come at a cost right? It's dark in there, I go in anyway because darkness and I... well she's a great friend to me. The door slams shut behind me and I flinch, waiting for my eyes to adjust. They never do. I take careful steps further, knowing I can't go back now.
I feel another door, this one is ice cold and it soothes my burns. I snatch it open, the hinges creaking as the sunlight peeks in. I step out and it closes behind me but when I look up, I'm right back where I started this morning. Except, this time the maze is covered in moss adorned with pink flowers; a change of scenery I suppose.
Sometimes it feels like I'm Sisyphus; punished by Hades to roll a boulder up a steep hill for all of eternity. I push and I push; my feet sore, red, and blistered. I use all my might and my muscles are contracted to the max. Then I look up to see how close I am to the top, realizing I'd only moved an inch today. Despite the vast distance I've already gone, this discourages me.
So I step out the way and watch as the rock tumbles down, easily bouncing over pebbles that I almost died by slipping on. Rolling over each bump, even skipping over them, all with ease. I take a seat to gather myself before making the walk back down, preparing myself to do it all over again tomorrow. Maybe I'll be stronger this time.