The Disappeared
4.
I was finally able to leave the house, get away from the confinment of it all, escape everything in that house I knew all to well, memories and stories, the worthlessness of not being able to complete even one simple drawing. I needed some change, even just the change of getting to work, especially if it meant getting away from the house mates. So i left early, I walked to work in the rain, the yellow NYC cabs leaving gasoline rainbows in the puddles lining the gutters. A foul beauty, a cities gift.
I worked for Cantor Fitzgerald L.P., doing some mindlessly dull secretarial type job. It was only temporary, just for some money while I finished up at art school. It was almost the end of the year, I’d be finished soon, and then I could finally quit CF’s and just swan around for a bit, basically broke, picking up a few odd jobs, designing band merch, album artwork for unheard of bands, a bit of illustrating. After that I was counting on being discovered and getting a real job. I hadn’t planned my life too well. Maybe I’d trusted in my abilities too much. Now i wasn't so sure of them. Everything I used to find easy was becoming increasingly more difficult. Art was hard. Every waking moment was hard. For days I'd just wanted my life to end, but I had confined myself to that corner of my room. I wouldn't let myself suicide, I couldn't. So i cried, and i thought, until my mind went numb. There was no emotion left anymore. I only knew what i needed to do. I couldn't let myself think, i could only survive.
I kicked a rock up the street for a bit, I was in no real hurry. The dull connection of the stone hitting my converses sent up drops of water, sparkling in the newly discovered sun, sparkling like tears on eyelashes, light spreading and flowing, sadly, beautifully.
I hadn’t dressed for work; all I did there was run messages, anyway. I’d pulled out my jeans and a crumpled shirt this morning, so that’s what I was wearing. Now, thanks to the rain, my shirt was starting to cling to my body and my hair was slowly plastering its-self across my eyes. I ran the last four blocks.
I spent to next hour and 45 travelling up and down in an elevator, hunting down people and handing them messages, folders, masses of paper. They all stared me up and down, wondering who the fuck let me in the building, I didn’t care, one memory had trickled into my mind and from there it had kept going, I was lost in memories, thoughts swarming beneath my glazed expression. I handed them their paper and moved on. Sure, most of them were loving and caring parents, but no-one there, in that building, would have given a shit about what terrible memories stirred in my mind. I was too far below them. Too far gone.
* * *
I lent against the back of the empty elevator, my arms full of figures and statistics, masses of paper, as memories of the hospital swirled up, thoughts I was trying desperately to forget. I stepped out of the elevator. One thing always lead onto the next, and I could never stop my racing mind. The hospital lead to those terrible machines, which lead back to the pub on that night, with the pain as I lay on the floor, wondering if I would die or not, counting down the seconds till I passed out………
The floor shook beneath me and I was pulled harshly out of my thoughts. The sound of shattering glass flew shrilly through the air. I heard explosions, screaming. The floor trembled violently as I was thrown to my knees. I must dying now, surely, finally, but i wasn't so sure now. Has I never been sure? I staggered upright, alone amongst the confused people. No-one knew what was happening. I felt the heat, saw the smoke, curling up to our floor. They were panicking, people were running, screaming, crying out for loved ones, tears streaming down across their faces. Documents were burning, smoke was tearing out my lungs, everything was happening all too quickly. Breathing was hell, yet no-one could stop. I made up mind, the only time i had ever been sure. This wasn't how it was supposed to end. I couldn't die now, not after a realisation had emerged. This was life. This was now. This was never again. I couldn't lose it, not now, but no-one could escape. The flames reached out and devoured anything that came in reach, burning paper, furniture. Burning flesh. The smell was so obvious, yet no-one noticed it. No-one could bear it. The glass was shattering. It was breaking and falling. The bodies were falling. There were screams. I stared blindly into the smoke wrapped around my body, everything was gone, except for one thought. Now that it was ending, I wanted to keep going. A few distant telephones were still ringing. Alarm sirens were deafening, but the electricity soon went and the screams disappeared. I saw a last glimpse of beauty, a rainbow lingering on my eyelashes, splashed up in a puddle, stretching across the sky, falling below, beyond the collapse of reality, surviving.No-one moved, yet our bodies fell, devoured by flame, our ashes lost on the wind, blown across the city, scattered memories falling to the sidewalk. Our bodies stolen by the greed of men. Our souls living on, trapped and restless, hungry. Eternally lost and lonely.
Somos Los Desaparecidos.
We Are The Disappeared.
I worked for Cantor Fitzgerald L.P., doing some mindlessly dull secretarial type job. It was only temporary, just for some money while I finished up at art school. It was almost the end of the year, I’d be finished soon, and then I could finally quit CF’s and just swan around for a bit, basically broke, picking up a few odd jobs, designing band merch, album artwork for unheard of bands, a bit of illustrating. After that I was counting on being discovered and getting a real job. I hadn’t planned my life too well. Maybe I’d trusted in my abilities too much. Now i wasn't so sure of them. Everything I used to find easy was becoming increasingly more difficult. Art was hard. Every waking moment was hard. For days I'd just wanted my life to end, but I had confined myself to that corner of my room. I wouldn't let myself suicide, I couldn't. So i cried, and i thought, until my mind went numb. There was no emotion left anymore. I only knew what i needed to do. I couldn't let myself think, i could only survive.
I kicked a rock up the street for a bit, I was in no real hurry. The dull connection of the stone hitting my converses sent up drops of water, sparkling in the newly discovered sun, sparkling like tears on eyelashes, light spreading and flowing, sadly, beautifully.
I hadn’t dressed for work; all I did there was run messages, anyway. I’d pulled out my jeans and a crumpled shirt this morning, so that’s what I was wearing. Now, thanks to the rain, my shirt was starting to cling to my body and my hair was slowly plastering its-self across my eyes. I ran the last four blocks.
I spent to next hour and 45 travelling up and down in an elevator, hunting down people and handing them messages, folders, masses of paper. They all stared me up and down, wondering who the fuck let me in the building, I didn’t care, one memory had trickled into my mind and from there it had kept going, I was lost in memories, thoughts swarming beneath my glazed expression. I handed them their paper and moved on. Sure, most of them were loving and caring parents, but no-one there, in that building, would have given a shit about what terrible memories stirred in my mind. I was too far below them. Too far gone.
* * *
I lent against the back of the empty elevator, my arms full of figures and statistics, masses of paper, as memories of the hospital swirled up, thoughts I was trying desperately to forget. I stepped out of the elevator. One thing always lead onto the next, and I could never stop my racing mind. The hospital lead to those terrible machines, which lead back to the pub on that night, with the pain as I lay on the floor, wondering if I would die or not, counting down the seconds till I passed out………
The floor shook beneath me and I was pulled harshly out of my thoughts. The sound of shattering glass flew shrilly through the air. I heard explosions, screaming. The floor trembled violently as I was thrown to my knees. I must dying now, surely, finally, but i wasn't so sure now. Has I never been sure? I staggered upright, alone amongst the confused people. No-one knew what was happening. I felt the heat, saw the smoke, curling up to our floor. They were panicking, people were running, screaming, crying out for loved ones, tears streaming down across their faces. Documents were burning, smoke was tearing out my lungs, everything was happening all too quickly. Breathing was hell, yet no-one could stop. I made up mind, the only time i had ever been sure. This wasn't how it was supposed to end. I couldn't die now, not after a realisation had emerged. This was life. This was now. This was never again. I couldn't lose it, not now, but no-one could escape. The flames reached out and devoured anything that came in reach, burning paper, furniture. Burning flesh. The smell was so obvious, yet no-one noticed it. No-one could bear it. The glass was shattering. It was breaking and falling. The bodies were falling. There were screams. I stared blindly into the smoke wrapped around my body, everything was gone, except for one thought. Now that it was ending, I wanted to keep going. A few distant telephones were still ringing. Alarm sirens were deafening, but the electricity soon went and the screams disappeared. I saw a last glimpse of beauty, a rainbow lingering on my eyelashes, splashed up in a puddle, stretching across the sky, falling below, beyond the collapse of reality, surviving.No-one moved, yet our bodies fell, devoured by flame, our ashes lost on the wind, blown across the city, scattered memories falling to the sidewalk. Our bodies stolen by the greed of men. Our souls living on, trapped and restless, hungry. Eternally lost and lonely.
Somos Los Desaparecidos.
We Are The Disappeared.