I want to quit. Tired of trying
Black clouds weigh down
Tears fall like rain
Nothing feels right. Relentless pain
Self doubt and loathing
Broken wheels stop turning
Where is the sun? Blackness of night
Lost inside darkness
Shadow stained soul
Death beckons. Life’s mockery
Peace escapes
Haunting emotions
Freedom desired. Door slams shut
Air becomes thick
Breathing labors
No fight left. Nothing to give
Hollow and empty
Prisoner to myself
Why bother? There is no one left. You look around and see faces everywhere around, but the eyes are empty. Not even hate or anger sparks there. It’s not zombies, it is worse.
I’ve walked the mall, where there is normally the bustle of life. The old couple who would walk hand in hand, seeing the years of love between them as he holds a door for her. The young mother who is at her wits end because her baby won’t stop crying and her young child sit there screaming about some toy. The uncaring attitudes painted on the group of teenagers with the spiked colored hair, heavy makeup, and baggy clothes. Even the cheerleaders and football players that stand across the way and laugh and point at those they don’t understand. All the faces are there, but the eyes are hollow, nothing remains of the people they were.
I walked the neighborhoods. The places that children would play in the yards, their puppies full of energy and life would nip and roll with them. The mothers would gather on the porches laughing and sipping tea as they watch over their young. Fathers would mow the lawns and tend to the repairs on their homes. Now all is gone, tools abandoned, rocking chairs are still, but the faces are there, no life in the eyes, nothing left there.
I walked the beach where beauties would lay and bathe in the sun. Games of volleyball would go on for hours. The man at the stand would sell lemonade and hot dogs. Parents would take their little ones to play in the wake of the ocean and build sandcastles nearby. Now the water comes and slowly pulls it all away, only the faces remain eyes unblinking, a never ending stare.
There are no zombies here, no monsters, and no life. No breeze that stirs, the air has gone stale. Just a sea of faces all around, eyes staring blankly at nothing. No sparks of humanity, no words are spoken, no work getting done, no fun to be had. If I turn and look in the mirror at all, will I see the same blank face and empty eyes? Or will I be all that is left of life?
Elizabeth LaFond 