Hollow as the Autumn Evening

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Where were we?

Ah, yes, we last reported in early spring.  Alas, spring has sprung past.  Summer flew by, and I never took a moment to write.  Now that autumn is beckoning once more, I find myself compelled to return.  My heart was singing such a joyful tune all of those pages ago in the things I thought but never wrote.  I thought I was in love.  Fast forward to this moment, and I’ve spent the better part of my evening arguing with figments of digital beings; the whims and opinions of those who do not matter and those who are not here.  I’m bitter now.  I grow more bitter and unhappy with each passing day of starvation both physical and emotional.  I feel a husk of what I once was, like the corn fields shriveling at the first frost, having dropped their fruits long ago.  The flame inside me stirs only for controversy and for burning bridges.  It’s all consuming and it wants to eat up everything that no longer matters.  It wants to eat my soul.

Admittedly, my faith in humanity has taken a dip in recent months.  The nightmare began with the news of anti-abortionists and their found footage.  This so-called truth appeased those who wanted to hear the sins of women holding the reigns of their sexuality, and women specifically who “murder children.”  I saw little merit in the accusations.  My best friend had heard what he wanted to hear, because it aligned with his understanding.  His understanding which is so opposite to my own.  I cringe now, remembering all at once the blissful moments which have become tarnished by the flickering flames.  It wants to eat those, too.  It wants to eat my memories.

Now I lie awake at night, uncomfortable and unhappy.  It has been hours since anyone reached out to me.  My beloved cat has napped the night away, his fur fluffed in semi-sickly fashion.  I’m tired too, but I cannot sleep and it haunts me.  I’m burning up inside.  There are but ashes left for my academics and my animals and myself.  I want to eat something warm and buttery and feel the warmth of my mother’s touch and reassurance as I sob into my leftovers.  I want to be whole again.  I want to feel fulfilled.  As time has lurched forward, I realize I’m truly alone.  I have come further and further to the conclusion that my life is insignificant.  Of course it is; we’re all insignificant.  We’re all replaceable, our mothers just don’t want to say that because firstly, they truly don’t, and secondly, it’s a fact of life that can destroy all will to survive.  I know at this hour, as the flames hunger for more, I wonder what more I can give.  I wonder when I pass what it will have mattered to him or to anyone or anything.  Eons from now, individuals become specs and nothingness.  Tomorrow, I  have to ground myself and rebuild from the ashes and rise again as the phoenix of mythology.  Perhaps it belongs in myth, that grand rebirthing bird I scarcely relate to.  Maybe I cannot do this.  Alas, the alternative makes little sense either.  I can only lurch forward as time surely does.  I can only meagerly attempt to put out the flames that want to take my tomorrow, too.  Lest they do.

Remember.  I once saw a future in you.

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