People say this happens—but those people, they don’t know what they’re talking about. They have these experiences, these lies, and they share them in some dramatic way, making their story more than what it actually is. They don’t really know. I suppose I don’t really know either.
And it’s funny—funny that I’d spend time thinking about this, when there’s so little time left. What I wouldn’t give for an hour. A half hour. Anything longer than the hand I was dealt. Then I could ponder these semantics for just a few more moments. But for now, I’m stuck, stuck between two lines that stretch on infinitely; I used to be able to see the lines; not that it made a difference, because even when I can’t see them I know they’re there. Limiting me, keeping me boxed in.
You don’t cross the lines—I mean, sometimes you have to. I guess that’s how this mess got started. Not by me, though; I am most certainly not at fault here. It seems like a good system, at least on paper: one path, one way to go, not back or left or right but forward; always forward. Then you add a path, then another, and soon you have chaos, or at least the makings for chaos. I might try to cross the lines now, but even if I could, it wouldn’t end any differently. Back is never an option, the rules say forward is the only choice. And location, that’s key—this dream, this fantasy in my mind, its location is familiar as I’ve been here before, but why this location? Why does it end here, like this?
I have to remember to breathe. One long breath, maybe my last, right before everything stops. I’ve done this before, maybe you could even say I practiced, and more than once. The first time was no big deal, barely an event; the second time was more serious. And I did, somehow, remember to breathe. But it was different, because I didn’t have this dialogue in my head. It was so fast, there wasn’t time to ponder anything. But this time is different, it must be, because even though everything is moving faster, I have so much more time to think, to reflect. Maybe in real life, everything has already stopped, and this is just what happens. Maybe I missed my chance to breathe.
I wonder how much people actually regret, versus me, who just gets caught up in semantics. Ever the philosopher, I suppose. I could have been good at philosophy; sure, maybe my vocabulary isn’t up to snuff, but I’m here now, aren’t I? I’m thinking deeply now.
What if, before all this started, I had written a book, or a story? It’s a funny thought, more ironically funny than ‘ha ha’ funny. Words wasn’t my realm, though. It was always a nice idea, something I could sit down to and enjoy like I would a cup of coffee: I wouldn’t drink it fast, so I’d have some time to enjoy it, but eventually, coffee gets cold. That’s why I never wrote any stories, I was never devoted to the idea. I guess that brings us back to these lines, the barriers that define where you’re at, and where you’re going.
People cross their lines every day, and no one gets hurt; unfortunately, that’s not the case this time. Now, for sure, way too much time has passed this to end well for me. I wonder if the others are thinking the same thing I am, if they are wondering what I’m thinking. Or thought. It’s weird how you don’t even know, at least not in the moment. Sure, we all look back and have a good sense of the timeline, what happened when, the order of events. But when we’re in the moment, only the instant is present, and only on an infinitely small scale. So at some point, this long chain of thoughts will become the past, even though I’m thinking them right now.
That’s pretty heavy stuff. Maybe a bit too dark, but can you blame me? Or maybe ‘gloomy’ is a better word for it, fitting, because I when I look around all I see is gray. This is different than the last time, because last time I couldn’t see anything, or at least, nothing outside of a small radius, like I was in a cocoon. Last time when I had time to breathe, but no time to think. I’d prefer it that way, at least then it would be familiar and I wouldn’t be so scared.
Anyway, it was fun while it lasted. I guess as they say, all good things must come to an end. I wish it weren’t that way, that all good things could just go on forever. No matter; what’s done is done. This next part should be interesting.
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