Back to the Wilderness

I find myself staring at the leaves drifting past once again. A deafening silence cloaks me despite the rustling of those withered leaves. I am staring ahead, and yet I am not; for I am truly far away exploring the hidden crevices in my mind. I do not know how many masks have I shuffled through the past week, but I know for sure that I have exhausted my entire wardrobe of masks. For one thing, every mask worn eventually demands a payment in terms of emotions for its service rendered.

The burning throbbing sensation on my palms does not cease. My hands glow of crimson and I writhe because of the wounds inflicted not by a foe, but by a friend. Deep indeed are the wounds made by a trusted one. Perhaps friends have changed, or perhaps I have erred in perceiving the true situation. Yet the wounds do not account for the sheer volume of blood on my hands. The blood of another mingles with that of mine. I cannot escape this scene. There is little to be said except that this guilt has opened the floodgates of bitter memories. I’m sorry for that all that has been said and done. I may be forgiven, but I do not know if I can forgive myself.

Perhaps it is time for me to return back to where I have always been more at home. The wilderness of the mind is a land where the laws of nature hold no sway over. There is neither life nor death planted in the dust. Driven here by my unwanted hand of mortis, it will do no harm here. I have come to realize that my gauntlet wrecks havoc on all matter it touches. I have little choice but to depart from civilisation not for my sake, but for the sake of others. I have had enough of my social missteps and the harm wrought upon others. No one, save God will understand why I do what I do. No one, save God will understand how I feel at times. Here my sole companion, loneliness awaits me to resume my journey. She stands there in silence, imploring me to move out. She has followed me most of the days of my life, and I suspect she will accompany me till I reach my dusty grave. The dry harsh winds have issued forth their call. And so I shall wander forth into the gray horizons.