Snapshots of Life and Other Disasters (Part VI

My Darkest Maya, Uncle has told me that you've been asking around about me. You must know of the consequent fear that this has caused me. I had thought my self finally done with you; Now I must worry of you finding me again. Is the whole thing going to start over? I hope not, but still there is that fear. You've asked Uncle about how I've been doing. Well, the days get longer as, each day, I spend more time contemplating the same ruinous decisions, mine and others. I admit that this has done me no amount of good, and yet it has a rhythm, like a metronome of despair, that I have found to be strangely comforting. I do not care to describe these worries, so do not ask me. I know that would gush out, in an orgy of pain, unburdening me briefly , but in the next moment I would feel their weight return, slowly, pulling me back down, until once again I would be drowning in my sorrows. No all this is better left unsaid; I knowing that you will have a story, of your own, with which to strike at me with your scorn, does what I have to say really matter? There was a time when I imagined that your world could be my world, but now I see I deluded myself into believing in your skillful illusions. I see clearly, now, that all that you had ever offered me, was of the fashion of a pipe dream, or a nightmare. What good you promised me was always just beyond my grasp, receding ahead of me as fast as I could chase after it, like a mirage. I am determined to stop chasing after all of this. I don't minimize the immediate pain that this decision has caused me. It has left a hole in my life that you once promised to fill. But what you promised me was fairy gold, destined to evaporate from my hand, leaving naught but airy nothing. So I say: Please leave me alone; Save your torture for the others. Perhaps for Uncle Dionysius, he is fond of you, when he is drinking. While it is true that you once, falsely, brightened my life, it is now my choice to walk a path without your darkness. What hope should I hold out, knowing that I'm not among the self-illuminate ones, like Brother Gatama? I Don't know, but I cling to hope, and time will tell. Our baby is fine; each day becoming more independent, more of an individual. I have great hope that he will avoid the snares that have entangled me, and that, perhaps, he will never know your suffocating embrace, but instead will hold in his hand a silken thread, of your sister Ariadne. If so, there is hope that he might yet find a way out of this maze, following Brother Gatama on his journey. Yours, from the Shadows (signed) Umbra Hom.
© B. W. Reed 1999

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