fearful twilight

“Would a day of death and ashes not come, a day in the long string of other days which would give the nod to madness, a day when the gas chamber would reopen?”
-Pauline Reage, from Story of O

Night comes down. The world has left you alone. Your friend is gone. Your lover is asleep in someone else’s bed. Nothing now but thousands of empty hours. You’ll tear yourself apart inside, incapable of letting go of a past that’s already forgotten you. It will always be this way. You’ll go down into and vanish in isolation. The end is not beautiful. It’s slow and pathetic. You’ll die for years, decades even.
Your youth will decline, replaced by the ugliness of decay’s age. No one will ever touch you with loving hands again. No caring eyes will look at you. People will look away. Your hours will be filled with impossible desperation and loneliness. There will be no witnesses to your end. Incapable of pulling the trigger, you’ll suffer a longer, more terrible death instead, alone in your room with the door locked.

March 30, 2009