Meanwhile, the air is thinning

%27Defying+the+wind%27

Alice Faryna

‘Defying the wind’

As I stood beside the wind that wasn’t strong enough to carry away the crusted remainders of the fall leaves, I found myself unable to pull it together enough to become a tangible thing in the air. Struggling to articulate much of a sound at all, I stand in silence as the lack of the wind’s presence howls more fiercely.

But not because I am at a loss for words, no, but because that I was drained of the very thing that makes me want to speak in the first place. I have nothing left to give, and the worst part is that I’m not sure when I will gain any of it back.

I feel empty and more alone than ever as the creeping enigma of the future tightens its grip around my soul. It is consumed—as is my physical form as the paranoia shoots through my veins, filling me with doubt and despair as my eyes are forced open to the reality of it all.

I become a harbinger of defeat, living every day as a reminder of an imperfect situation. I am the stain they can’t scrub away. I am a mistake, and, as I fall from grace, all I can think about is the pressure in my chest as my heart shatters, and I plummet through cloud peak after cloud peak.

I’ve found myself pining to finally hit the ground, to allow myself to completely hit rock bottom. But I’ve also caught myself appreciating this alternate state of limbo I am in. I am right on the edge, but I can still be pulled back; discovering this has put me in some kind of dangerous safety net.

I know that he was here because my clock had run down, and a deal with the devil only lasts so long when you yourself are fraying at the edges”

I rest semi-comfortably in my nest of halfway finished assignments, but, if I think about it too much, the paper beneath me turns to stone as my bed transforms into the floor of the jail cell. As I jump up to escape, a fist grabs the door from outside and slides it shut. I scramble to the threshold and half-slam, half-fall into the bars as I sink into a heap at the feet of the outside figure as the bolts click into place. And, although I don’t have any idea who he was, I know that he was here because my clock had run down, and a deal with the devil only lasts so long when you yourself are fraying at the edges.

The worst part of it all is that it is unceasing and undefeatable. There are some days, however, where the shroud seems thinner, and I can breathe the fresh air outside the darkness, but there is no denying the thickness of the smog when I am alone with my thoughts; then it becomes so discernible that the only escape is by means of surrender.