For Want Of A Better World

It’s a desert out here. Nothing but dust, cigarette butts and smoking ruins. As I sit here on the mountaintop of a grey, fast dwindling existence, I try to remember how it was that I ended up here, like this. Growing up, there always used to be this one motto: “Sticks and Stones won’t break My Bones; My Mom says I’m Quite Healthy” You could do whatever you wanted to; go wherever you wished, as long as mom said you were allowed to wish so. Running around the neighbourhood as a young, obedient little tyke, it wasn’t long before I realised that there really was no reason why mom should tell YOU to stay within the 4-street block and go out herself every single day, especially when those little ragamuffin friends of yours were so quick and so consistent in pointing this out. I took my first step outside the block into the alley way one day and it was the first time I got pummelled by street toughs. So, mother was right; but this had to be a one-off thing. Why would she scream at me then, if...

After a long sojourn, I sense a feeling of satisfaction in me when I state that I’ve finally regained a measure of my old self. Socially Deceased perhaps being the always unattainable idyllic phrase, perhaps Socially Withdrawn is something more akin to what I’ve achieved. It took some time because I have allowed myself to distance myself from people by associating with them more professionally than personally, and such a shift comes with its associated penalty. I do not think any better of my life, but I do feel a sense of emancipation when I sense prison bars being lifted from the confines of my mind and turning into an absolute, impermeable cage a fourteenth of an inch from my skin. I shall not pretend to fully understand why, after all this, I’m posting again; but such as it is, I believe an explanation was required to the few who read the last one. This shall not be the last post here; in fact, there shall be many more in the time to come. I shall endeavour, however, to limit the o...