"How much strain can the human mind take? Is it the length of the suffering or only the severity that decides whether ‘we’ll continue on’? How many deaths? How much hunger? How much fear will man put up with? Before it ends, before humanity says ‘enough’. To what lengths will someone go to escape their world? And if suicide isn’t an option…what recourse does man have? How else does he escape? When you can’t make your legs run, you force your brain to compensate. The brain, that untapped well of possibilities. What if? The question with a thousand answers. What if the brain were so much more than a way of thinking, speaking, surviving. What if we could escape? All of it.
I want out. I won’t stay here. This hell hole of a world where glass shards in your food is a norm and people get stabbed on their own doorsteps. The stinking gas that you run screaming from. The beautiful flash of colored light in the sky that signals even more destruction. This isn’t home. This isn’t earth. Earth is somewhere you can live, where the human population can thrive and expand. Are there humans anymore? All I see are looters waiting outside you house for you to die and monsters that forget their children as they run for bomb shelters. This isn’t humanity. It’s survival in its basest form. We live because we have to, because the thought of dying is even more terrifying than how we will die. Pain is a norm. Smoke is a norm. If the sky is still blue when the smog clears it will be a miracle. But it won’t. It will stay just like everything else, just like the constant rumble of glass bombs and the soft hiss of escaping gas. I want out. I feel like if I tried hard enough. Prayed hard enough. Maybe God would let me out? Let me escape. My brain hasn’t clicked out of survival mode; I don’t think it ever will. I feel something in there, working furiously, as if it’s going through all the possibilities, all the different decisions I could take. But even more than that, I feel the handle of a door. Good god. It’s in there, a glimmer of hope, waiting for me to open it and peer through. See if I like what’s behind it. It’s alien. A different world altogether. And I think I can just step through. But do I dare. Could this new reality be just as hellish as my old home? Listen, do you hear that? The shatter of glass? The screams of someone caught in a billowy acid cloud. Clutch at the door handle. Concentrate. Pray that the option for me to get out is still there. And now my old world is melting away. My two realities twisting and untwisting as I will myself into the new one. Come and join me. If you have the gift of deciding your own fate. Your own reality. Come find me. I’m right below you."
This is sort of the basis for my story. Humanity and how far they will go to escape. We have so much of it going on at present. People escape into movie characters, book characters, music; anything but themselves ...and their own life. They have to be someone else, be elsewhere to escape. And I suppose I don't blame them...it's understandable. I don't agree with it but how many of us have ever said 'I wish I wasn't me.' Truth be told....I think everyone has said it...or at least thought it. We all go through suffering. It's the way we deal with it that makes us different. Stronger. Depressing post fit for a less than happy day.
No comments:
Post a Comment