And there she sat. There she sat, with a hot drink in hand. Coffee, milk, sugary, warm, calming. Some things never change. For example, they haven’t changed the seats in this place ever since she was in her 20s. The leather was flaking off. In it, cracks exploded from a central point which came into existence some time ago, although it was difficult to pinpoint when exactly. When exactly a process like erosion begins has always seemed to be some sort of mystery. Much like life, you don’t see it coming. Things are in perfect condition. And by perfect condition I by no means point to the privilege of having loving parents, a stable unbroken home, friends you can rely on, no, none of that. She had none of that. By perfect condition I mean the god given right of having things make sense, even when they don’t. People are horrible. They simply seemed to be. Well I guess that makes sense, because of course it does. Men rape women. Women rape children. The government rapes the citizens. And we rape the earth. It’s the way things were so it must make sense, because otherwise you have nothing.
And there she sat, pondering how fast the erosion came. My statement stands. It comes as fast as life does. Suddenly things are in perfect condition, then they are simply not. They are not completely eroded but you begin to see the cracks. The illusion starts to break down. And when you begin to notice the flakes and rubble under your feet forming, you begin to question. She began to question too. And what a curse that is. Things were perfect. They made sense because they had to. It wasn’t just a rule, it was a precursor for existence. Things were and so they are. But then we began to question why. Why is that? Why is this? Why are those? Why are they? Why are you? Why am I? The cloth was stripped from our eyes, letting the light flood in and sear its insufferable existence and reason onto our retinas. Forcing itself on us in ways only the very fabric of reality could. As the blurry vision approaches, as the distant whistle nears, the train grows clearer. And in a sick twist, the discovery of the pain reason brings, drew us in to uncover more of it. Like degenerates, we have this fetish for being hurt, being humiliated, being degraded and left feeling used. Impregnating ourselves with versions of us to give that same perfect condition and then fail to deliver any more. Like a parody, a farce, we then try to live once more through these clear glasses, unhurt, fresh, and ripe for pain.
And there she sat, remembering the sweet pain. Poisoned honey. She frantically tries to balance between drinking her hot coffee and keeping just enough of it there so she has something to drink. However, this is not the race that Achilles runs. And as such, one of the times she raises the now cold ceramic to her lips, she is met with a dreadful realization. She has eroded. Completely and perfectly, eroded. There lies nothing more in her way. She slides out of the room and into the next. However, nothing but darkness awaits. It’s okay, she has been patient all these years. A few minutes are nothing in comparison. She knows her children better than anyone. Cody will suck in his breath a little too hard as he silently weeps, and then she’ll know wherever he’s hiding. If she can get to one of the kids, she can get to another. He ran upstairs when he heard the sound. He is a smart kid she will admit. But smarts have nothing to do with this. He is upstairs. He simply IS upstairs. His sister was downstairs. She simply WAS downstairs. We are all given a place in this world. His mother was given a place. She was downstairs with his sister and she had a gun. It is only a matter of time before he understands that there are no superheroes in this world. You can’t get lethal doses of radiation and expect to go through walls. You can’t get struck by lightning and run faster than light. You can’t jump through a window and fly away. And you can’t honestly expect that your mother won’t find you in your closet shaking from all the crying that you were doing.
And there she stands,eroded, used, impregnated, humiliated, parodied, hurt and drenched in the only victory she has known in her life. And here her children lied under her feet. Their blood soaking into her white socks. Their smell in her nose, which inhales and exhales in a frenzy to compensate for her lack of stamina.
Here we sit, waiting our turns. There you sit. In a perfect condition. One day, before you know it, you will understand. One day you will sit with us, drink with us, cry with us and stand with us. Then one day you will stand alone.
One day…