In their shadow (excerpt-5)

… it was as if my mind disoriented in most ways except that ungodly and slow tearing of fiction from my essence, by that newfound reality of mine. Unwanted knowledge in the process of creating a rent that’s sure to be left in my soul forever. I couldn’t believe the scene I just seen and yet instinctively I know, there is no going back, no- unseeing any of it, not- now. Even my love for each of them was stalled in guilt for a moment; as if I intruded insensitively into their true private realm. All her pure nakedness that I use to read like braille with my fingertips, kiss with my lips, intertwined with all his ugly bare essence laced in sweat and unconscionable lust, corrupting what I thought was her and my- shared love.  Here, my two best friends, boy what a miscarriage the two of them has caused the term: friends- friends that I- I- loved dearly, were wearing mask of keen actors all this time. Deceiving my love, my trust, my heart, all my senses of sanity. The myriad of unanswerable questions revolves time and time again like returning echoes. And my foolish frail attempt at providing temporary answers to my heart was really my subconscious, hoping to spare my mind for a moment to simply breathe, but knowing they were merely just a frenzy of lies that even I couldn’t naively swallow, not- anymore, not after those vivid moments. The brokenness received from just one of them was bad enough to drop me to my knees but two of them far worse and would surely leave me face down on the ground, however the two of them in a plot together- perhaps will prove to be too unbearable to ever live with. Just how much further could I possible fall now with hell already at my hearts doorstep and no other foreseeable exist out? If these two couldn’t be trusted…could- anyone?  That was the moment loss really settled in a sobering manner. I was alone- no one I knew was above suspicious, not anymore. There was no one at all I could go to, fall into their arms and seek understanding. No one to tell more horror to and purge it from within. Who knew how many times I might relive the vividness play, repeat my words, my unwanted story depicting it as if in real time to yet another person who may well be just- another- stranger- hidden. How tiny I feel more-than ever in a world still far too big to truly comprehend, especially when those listening might seemingly relish in this, my tragic turn of events.


I stare ignorantly out a smudged window as the moon dissipates into another foggy dark horizon. Tuesday’s gone-Lynyrd Skinner loops as an amber candle flame flickers in the background while I continue my unavoidable interrogation of myself. The same contrasting questions, when did it start, why me…how, how do I carry onward, and just as importantly- to where from here…



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