KNIFE

Being this close was something I never really thought about. It’s not something I really ever had to think about. With everything that’s ever gone on with me and my life, I think… I think it was never really relevant. But now? Now I don’t know. I’m not sure because I’ve never had to deal with anything like this. I don’t know how to act in this situation. It’s not something I’m used to.

Like an abused child’s first contact with kindness, I feel a sinking sense of… suspicion. I don’t know how this happened. If this situation can even be considered real. Has my wish for something stable and reliable really been fulfilled? Or is it all just an act? Is it really possible for me to end up in this situation? With no ulterior motives from any of the people involved?

I don’t know.

It’s always hard to admit when you don’t know something. It’s not really considered a valid answer most of the time. But, sometimes, you just don’t know. Sometimes, you just didn’t see what happened. Sometimes, you don’t have enough information to go on. Sometimes… Sometimes, the truth is that you just don’t know. Whether the person asking the question likes the answer or not. Sometimes, you just have to accept that you or they don’t have all the answers.

And that’s okay.

Still, even though it is that way, the problem with my situation is that I still don’t know what to do in this situation that I’ve found myself in. This dilemma that I face of whether or not to trust in what I’ve always known, or to let the past be the past and move on with this new lease on life.

Will my past come back to haunt me? Almost definitely. But do I care, though? Do I have enough apathy for others’ well-being that I am willing to do more than just leave everything behind? Or do I care enough to, instead, stay reclusive? Make it so nobody can get hurt by the past and the decisions I’ve made in it?

 …

I don’t have much time to think about it. Not anymore. I have to make a decision. I’m going to live- that much is certain -but what do I do to make sure that that stays the case as long as possible? What can I do that will make this newfound freedom and happiness last the longest? I don’t know. But I’m going to find out one way or another. And it’s time to make that decision.

So I do.

#

We are gathered in a church.

They lament the loss of their loved one and all I can do is sit here and stare out into the void of my mind and wonder where and how everything went wrong... I made the wrong choice. I was wrong in what I thought would happen. I’m still alive, but at what cost? The wrong one, that’s what. Now all I think of is the past and the present and the future and how they all fit together. With what’s in store for me and everyone else around me.

But I can only speculate. I can only guess as to what’s in store. I can only wonder what the correct decision is. I can’t tell the future. I can read minds. Or foretell peoples’ intentions from the get-go or even later on.

In the back of my mind, somewhere deep within the recesses of my self, I can feel something welling up inside me. An emotion. An unfamiliar one. Or, maybe, it’s familiar enough, but not one that I’ve experienced for a long, long time. But which one is it? It’s been so long since I’ve felt anything, anything at all. I don’t know what to do. How to handle myself or any sort of intense emotion. Singular or otherwise.

But something tells me that I’m going to have to. At least for now. And very soon...

Here and now. With everything that is going on. More than ever I feel that sense of… somethingness. These emotions fulfill a role that I never thought possible. I don’t know how to act or react. And I certainly don’t know what the best thing to do in this situation is.

I’m afraid of failure just like I’m afraid of losing everything. I stand up. I make my way to the casket. And I stare. I stare at the closed coffin and I can feel the emotions. They’re welling up so suddenly. So fast. I can’t control it. I can’t control myself. Or what I do next.

I collapse and I grab hold of one of the handles on the side of the coffin and I sob. And I sob. And I sob. I’m not sure what else I can do. I can’t think of anything. My mind is full of nothing. Nothing but the emotion of Despair, itself.

My life has once again lost everything important in it.

And it’s all my fault.

Someone is trying to pull me off. To loosen my grip on the handle like I’m loosening my grip on my sanity. Like I lost my grip on my happiness. Everything bad happens to me. To me and only me. The family hates me. They always hated me. Everyone always hated me...

Which is why I stand up. Which is why I push the offender away. Which is why I pull out the knife I always knew I’d need. Which is why I go for the nearest person. Which is why I attack anyone calling the cops. Which is why they can’t restrain me. Which is why they can’t stop me. Which is why the bloodbath begins and the church becomes a slaughterhouse. Which is why I won’t let the police take me. Which is why I won’t let anyone do anything to me but myself.
 
 
Which is why I make the decision that I do.
 
 
 
Which is why- even as I open the casket and look inside and then lay myself on top of you as I bleed out -I know that finally- finally, things will be better.
 
 
 
 
 For me.
 
 
 
 
 
 For you.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 For us.