The realization was sudden and shattering.
He looked at his hands without recognition; they were not his. His footsteps rang hollow, his feet felt uncomfortable on the floor. The creaks were strange, the rolls and dips disorienting. His eyes did not believe what they took in - whose house was this?
The food he cooked was tasteless and unimaginative, the whiskey that slipped past his lips, beyond the numbing, accomplished nothing. Music was boring, books collected dust, movies were repetitive.
The front yard was unfamiliar. It was not his front yard. Who did it belong to?
After decades of insensibility, his eyes were opened - he realized he had given it all away. His life was foreign to him. Nothing fit.
He did not recognize himself in the mirror, which spit back the truth at him. Unimaginable horror.
How did this happen? How had he lost himself so thoroughly?
Repulsed, he clawed at his skin, he had to get out, he had to start over.
But there was no time. No time to get back. No time to recover his soul.
No time.
No comments:
Post a Comment