The One

Enough. It all starts when one wakes up. The dread in one's mind cloaks one's perception of reality, screwing up how you see the world, ergo, the world sees you as screwed up. Everythings a vicious circle, with you right at the centre. You try to get out, but you cant. The circle keeps getting smaller, smaller, smaller, right up until its choking you, suffocating you, squeezing the very life out of your body. You try to break free, but you cant. You struggle, punch, kick, pound, bite, scratch, and finally scream. You scream and you scream and you scream, hoping and longing for a relief that will never come. You scream, wishing for times past, wishing you could redo a few days and make it all better. Redo a few hours and make it all better. Redo a few minutes and make it all better. Rethink a few thoughts and make it all better. But you cant. Regardless of what Flipsyde says, regardless of what Rowling writes, Time is not on your side. Time is, instead, a vicious predator, hungry for your blood, chasing you on and on. One tires. It doesnt. The end is inevitable. The end is everywhere, the end is forbodeing. The end is the end. It is naught, yet it is all. A leveller beyond all, the end is all. Some say death is the end. I know otherwise. Some say the worst occurance in one's life is death. I have stared into the blank, dead eyes of a beast with an even deader heart and realized that the greatest folly is birth. One can choose how one dies. One can even go as far as choosing how and when. Not so with birth. If you've seen your end as i have, you would never want to live. Not when you've seen your own death throes, as you writhe and twist in utmost agony. Pain incarnate, pain is all. There, as you wriggle around in your own filth, realizing that the end you have dreamt over and over again has come to pass, one thinks one would bawl in agony. Not me. As i lie here dying, i rejoice. rejoice that my life has come to pass. Rejoice in the fact that I am over. Because as i am done, there is no more of the rat race for me. No more sin, no more wrong. As this realization dawns on me, i smile a smile. An all-knowing smile. And i get up. Turn around. Look right into the deadened eyes of the monster that is Time. And i know the truth. It tires. I spit in its eyes, slap it into the ground. After all, what is it but Time. It cannot help but chase. It cannot stop. Unlike me. I have a choice. It doesnt. I can choose to bend over, pick a rose and smell it, savour the sensation it causes. It cannot. In that, i am richer, and in that knowledge, i am richest. Time is none, Time is dead, Time is over. I now wake up each morning with a purpose. I now wake up anticipating the day ahead. I feel no dread. What can dread do? It has no choice. I do. I wake up each morning anticipating the day ahead. People to meet, things to do.

And every few days..... every few weeks...months...years....lifetimes.... i look back into the eyes of the would-be monster behind me. Ever so desperately trying to catch up. Knowing that it cant , knowing that i know. And i know that someday, i will. See time in it's death throes, twisting and writhing in agony. I will, because i believe i can. And i know the truth. As it slowly realizes that it has no choice in pursuit, what it used to look forward to, anticipate, delight in, turns sour. Turns mundane. Turns agonizing. I know something of agony. And i wish not to know more.

So pardon me while i burst into flames,
i've had enough of this world,
And it's peoples mindless games.

So pardon me while i burn, and rise above the flame,
Pardon me, pardon me,
I'll Never. Be the same.

Incubus.