[Alone] In That Place

The walls stretch, up and away from you, black and hard but as they move horizontal splits form in them and warm blood seeps through. Winged horrors spiral overhead in this room that can’t be bigger than three feet square and you don’t know how you got here, there’s no door or other mode of entry in the stretching weeping walls. Images of people you loathe and adore swim in front of you, beckoning you to unleash it all at them and make them sob in this despair too. You might try resisting and surely that’s better for you, but then the horrors sweep down and grasp you by the shoulders, lifting you high above the walls and you can finally see the world rolling out beneath you. The cloud cover means it’s all misty and hard to see but you can make out the lights of the houses of your friends and family and people who you’ve never even met. And the graveyards of all the people you’ve lost.

And then the absurd horror drops you and you fall, and you scramble desperately for a parachute but you have none. What do you have? A blade, a cigarette lighter, your nails, your fist. You cut or burn or rake or smack any part of you that is within reach and as your body responds to the pain the ‘chute opens and then perhaps your landing isn’t quite so catastrophic, you either fall free or return to that room with that black stretching walls and pound your fists against them, desperately trying to break out.

I hate to be alone in that place, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But being alone there is not a necessity. There are those who are familiar with the obscene geography and rules of this realm, as you are for another, who can take your hand and lead you back through the hedge to light and security again.

Or perhaps someone else is stuck there too, in their own personal version of this infernal mind prison you crafted for yourself, and if you collapse there together at least the loneliness isn’t an issue, you can strike your parachute together and land safely holding hands as you bleed or otherwise make the scars to remind you.

If ever I know someone is in that place, I have to do what I can to get them out. Even if it risks me falling in too, because what’s more important is getting them out. That’s what matters.

I wouldn’t wish this on anyone and if I can do anything I’ll do it. Because I understand, because I’ve been there. So much so that it’s become a perverse kind of familiar, a domain I know intricately.

If you ever find yourself in that place, alone, try to find me. I’ll be around. And I’ll try to lead you back through the hedge to light and security, if I can.

That goes for all of you, and I truly mean that. Be safe.