Taking Day Trips

What to do, what to do, what to do anymore? I sit down and try to make sense of things, only to fail miserably. It’s getting a little ridiculous, actually. I read through our conversations over and over, trying to see something I want to see, something I’ve overlooked, some sign. Though, I know that the words you’ve said and the words I read are two different animals altogether, where you meant one meaning and I found another one.

Again, I go back to my mind, I fall through the veil as my eyes close to daydream, and I find myself in a warm room, velvet drapes and beads hanging from the wall, velvet tapestries and portraits dotting the vast walls. a hearth burns brightly, illuminating the deep maroon of the room with its flickering amber and cackling shadows. The room seems to breathe, seems to have life. A central room with no windows, the area is gentle and at peace. The hardwood floors of mahogany make no sound as I pass over them, their inviting warmth like an invitation. Though, while this should be a refuge, a safe haven, a home to retreat to, it is a fearful place for me, for dominating the center of the room is a cage, shining in its steel splendor and impenetrable atmosphere. Walking closer, I feel the warmth slowly come away from me, as though the daunting prison is sucking the life from the fabric. I come to see the figure, laying broken, defeated inside the cell, adorned in shock white clothing, a stark contrast to the easy nature of the room. I can’t see his face, but yet I don’t need to look to see who it is.

I collapse to my knees as if to weep, but tears do not come easily, and I just stare blankly into the dead eyes. He turns his head to meet me, gazes into my eyes, a smiles a horribly wretched grin, a haunted look that betrays the mania in the eyes.

“Having fun?”