Unquiet Desperation
January 18, 2021, 07:53:25 AM *
Welcome, Guest. Please login or register.

Login with username, password and session length
Sorry, you must be logged in to use the shoutbox!
News: Post in our Creative Philosophy board... if you can.
   Home   Help Login Register  
Pages: [1]
Author Topic: Over the Limit  (Read 3544 times)
Stanley Kubrick
Offline Offline

Posts: 82

« on: October 30, 2008, 12:09:17 AM »

Note: This is pretty much unfinished, and a work in progress, but I was wondering what people think about it...

Over the Limit

1st November - 24 days over the limit...

Sat in my lonely corner of loathing, 24 days pass away, barely noticed. The build-up of the broken heart, and the fall from grace becoming all but a distant memory. Time heals all wounds, a classic lie told to the defeated and the conceited. Alone, left to shiver alone in the cold, in the dark. No warmth from her lips to mine, no rush of blood through the veins from her loving gaze. Nothing.

24 days since the end of the dream, a flawed and poorly planned stab at happiness and temporary, imperfect beauty. In the light of the dark, I am but a shadow, no more than a figure of her past. Long, lost and forgotten, the hours race away, searching for the end, searching for the answer. To be beautiful is to be loved, and I can see that I am ugly.

What is 24 days? 3 weeks and 3 days of life wasted over the limit, in a place of no mercy and no redemption. The limit defines the line that should not be crossed, and 24 days I have spent over this line. The simple caress of my face by her hand would wash this away, but the sensation is miles away, the memory a lifetime ago.

24 days in pain, cast adrift from the oasis of faith. Alone with no solution, one can only find resolution, a change to your being of what makes you real. Do I sit here and wait for that impossible golden moment, or do you have to forge your own path? Destiny - what does it really mean? The road is never supposed to be smooth, and so will fate ultimately entwine us to be one? No answer, the same emptiness that began the 24 days of solitude.

Can I love again, or does this situation stop my heart from jumping to my throat for anyone but her? They say to love, you must realise that she can be lost, but to lose is to be defeated. To lose is to be broken, crippled by the presence of the green spirit that overcomes the soul.

Alone while she kisses him, the world I was denied comes crashing around to the ground. Her heart no doubt races for him as mine does for her. My anger summons self-hatred, as the thought of her tongue in his mouth creeps into my mind in the most haunting of ways.

And she pays me no notice. My heart slips from my sleeve to the cold, cold ground as she turns away. No attention to my coming apart, no concern for my sudden fall over the line of the limit.

24 days over the limit, and tomorrow it will be 25.

15th November - 38 days over the limit...

I have something to take care of. I have some things that I’d like to get off my chest, but I struggle to find the words and comprehend the situation we’ve found ourselves in. Should I push and should I scream, or should I cut my losses and ride into the sunset, a broken man?

It’s been 38 days and my reflection is my undoing. The fire’s gone from those eyes, and I don’t know how to get it back. The fire’s gone, and I feel the darkness douse the remnants of the blaze with so much unsettling ease. I try so hard to be what I’m not that who I am is escaping, deserting me. What defines a man? Is it found where he stands, or is it found where he falls? Would I be looked upon more fondly if I fell today?

38 days makes no difference. 38 days means nothing in the scheme of things. It means something today, but will cease to matter tomorrow. This pining for truth is fleeting in essence, with its meaning meaning as much as yesterday and the passing of today. What happened yesterday doesn’t matter, and neither does tomorrow. But today is… something. An inexplicable and generally torturous phenomenon. One thing follows the other, with me shouldering the blame for it all.

Will I still be blamed for this when I eventually leave? When I’m gone, when I’m but a relic of a forgotten memory, will it still be my fault? And if so, why? All I did was spend the last 38 days in the dark, in the corner of knowledge, facing away from the truth. The end of the changing of the days, the discovery of the truth, is nowhere near here. I could and should break the cycle, but it seems that I’m trapped in the routine and the hurt. I would if I could, but I can’t.

It’s been 38 days and my reflection is my undoing. My contemplation on the situation is the problem. I must be over-thinking everything; if everyone else around me is finding the answer to happiness, maybe I’m looking too hard at the question. Maybe the answer is right in front of me, and for some reason I refuse to see it. Maybe the answer is in the mirror, in the reflection. Maybe 38 days in the mirror were different. Maybe 38 days in the reflection were not spent alone, in the dark, blaming myself for the hurt she caused.

29th November - 52 days over the limit... 

The world is a messed up place. Friends can turn to snakes in an instant and those we trust can reveal the sharpest of shark’s teeth seemingly from nowhere. In the morning, who can we trust, those with their teeth proudly on display or those that conceal them?

I’ve been in exile for 52 days, but I feel as though I am reaching some kind of oasis from the pain that shreds up my emotions. It is rapidly becoming clear that she is not who I believed her to be, and whether that reflects worse upon me than her is questionable. My mind dines alone in the confines of the cage that she sealed my heart and soul into. But it has become quite a peaceful, sedated meal; by no means pleasant or friendly, but a meal where I can finally relax and maybe edge out into my life without her.

52 days of strife, 52 days of lost belief, 52 days of heartache. Gone. The river washes away my pain as well as my self-contempt, and my liberation is all but upon us. I can feel that one more good night, one more night where things work out for me will finally send me to where I want to be. One more night and I can say goodbye.
« Reply #1 on: October 30, 2008, 12:14:46 AM »

I'm at the 15th of November, this is a very heartwrenching soul baring piece so far,....
Mr. Goldberg
« Reply #2 on: November 03, 2008, 02:03:05 PM »

 I really would like to read more of this. I've been that soldier on one occasion to someone totally undeserving of the effort. But never even thought to write it down just goes to show..the things under your very chin. How much of this is there ... I see two entries here are there more ? 
Pages: [1]
Jump to:  

Powered by MySQL Powered by PHP Powered by SMF 1.1.16 | SMF © 2011, Simple Machines Valid XHTML 1.0! Valid CSS!