My Fault
My Fault
“It’s all gone, and it’s my fault. It’s all gone, and it’s all my fault”, words I muttered to myself as I stared into the blinding dark. Still overwhelmed, I stood there motionless, I didn’t know whether or not I could move, because while I wanted to, I didn’t. There I stood, having nothing more to hold onto to except small markings in my own physical appearance, and little strings of memory still attached.
Scars and bruises, bringing up little pictures I could barely conjugate in my mind. All was gone, and it was all my fault. “I suppose It’s only fair…” I thought to myself, in fact it had been I who once a backed from all of it. “It’s only fair I pay the equivalent”, pondering on why I had been so foolish, I return to my marks.
Little imperfections symbolizing times that seem so far now, intangible. A lively playground lush with trees everywhere engulfing the area, where I once never let go of the swings, even though I often fell. I could vaguely picture the scenery, much less record how perfectly rusty and welcoming the swings were. My playground was now dead.
Suddenly flitters and specs sunk into my eyes, filling my vision with a blurry image of a peculiar stumpy but rather wide structure, simple with nothing but a plain white plaster coating, slowly being picked away and destroyed, as I would soon follow. I barely recognized it, my primary school, filled with so many memories, although I only recall those which were… less fortunate.
Then more specs of different tones came unto my vision, yet another blurred image, but of young faces with which I once coexisted, my classmates as a young child. Upon seeing such faces I felt a rush and a flurry of emotions, a small burst of heat pulsed through my veins, and for a while I felt a small surge of vitality, only to lose it almost as quickly as it had came.
Oh how I remembered the horrid moments I had suffered as a child. I had never been as others were, the grown-ups would say so themselves. I came across even more blurred images, but stringed together, in the form of a small movie. It was of me… crouching it seemed, as I was picking at the ground, and then as I saw the rest of the scene I had noticed the other children were on the other side of the field.
The little strip of film went on, I do not know for how long, what seemed like seconds passed to minutes, hours, and soon and agonizing eternity for as long as the film lasted I saw nothing but myself picking at the ground. Picking, and picking, the sound begun thumping in my head, tormenting me so, reminding me once more of my own stupidity and error. The noise would not cease, and I could bear no more “Please…” I begged, and it suddenly ceased, as if someone were watching, and I was able to open my dry and worn-out eyes once more.
The relief, however, was not nearly long enough for undoubtedly the images would once again reveal themselves, and how right was I, for they did. This time, a very quick string of memories, first I saw myself in a circle of chairs, seated as our teacher was speaking. “He always has his mouth open, its so weird” upon hearing the words I quickly jerked my head to see it came from an old classmate. Suddenly at that same time I saw my younger image’s eyes dilate in what seemed like fear, and then forcedly shut his mouth. “He only closed it because he heard me” she remarked, and suddenly my vision went blank.
Another fast flash and there I saw my classmates at the same young age coming out of a small room accompanied by a teacher, I remember it was the Agenda Room, where students would place their weekly issues that would later be discussed into a little box covered with red paper foil that gleamed when placed just right against the light, (I remember as it strained my vision oh too many times). I saw then myself leaving the room, apparently in conflict with myself as apparently I had caused an ‘issue’ that was released into the box. There I stood with my head low as people murmured remarks in relation to my act.
Then lastly one more quick flash of blinding white light and there I was in the darkness, staring blindly into it once more. I then understood that my error had begun from a very early age. I then stood there again, muttering to myself, as if my mind were already half lost. The time went slowly, too slowly, cold blood ran through my body dulling all my senses, as if to say I was already half dead.
After an even more excruciating period of time, I felt my eyes, to see if I could still bear to shed a tear. Suddenly more specs came into appearance yet again, and this time it was of me still as a child but at a preadolescent age (9 or 10 if I would have had to guess). There I saw myself in my room locked, for hours on end I stood motionless on my bed, sobbing. I remember how on that day I had wished someone could understand but, as always, no one came, and I was left in all my misery.
I could not take anymore, the film would not change, countless hours of lying motionless, suddenly, however, I felt a choking sensation, and the image quickly disappeared as I found myself kneeling on the cold floor, still engulfed in darkness. I had choked myself, precisely to escape from the memory, and I felt a small rush of contentment due to my success.
My small burst of happiness did not last long however, for soon enough memories would not stop being brought from the depths of my mind, and there I was, in every single one, getting older and older in each. As a teenager, at the university of my dreams, at work, everywhere, I saw the same thing, always the same damn thing. In those images lied the same message, isolation.
The images would not stop, they repeated themselves over and over, faster and faster, suddenly everything spinning and I could no longer even distinguish one memory from another. I screamed, I tried to become unconscious, I cried wailed and begged but nothing, it would not stop! And it was then that there was no denying, my error had followed me through the course of my life.
No matter how much I strived physically, or how successful I was intellectually I had never lived in the same world as others, and nothing I did mattered. This cold blood that coursed my veins that had now turned my skin the palest blue, had always been within me, and I was never alive to begin with. I was slowly extinguishing the light in my heart, instead of quickly snuffing it out, only prolonging my self-inflicted pain.
Once again the images stopped and there I was, for a fourth time in that darkness staring blankly into that searing darkness. I stood there, muttering to myself, trying to find out why I had always been so alone. But then I could no longer think, and what was the point? It would not change anything. I stood there still and blank, feeling nothing but a cold breeze tickling my face, mocking me, giving me a fake sense of hope. But I knew from there on, there was no hope, and I am forced to forever live in darkness. “It’s all gone, and it’s my fault…”
Scars and bruises, bringing up little pictures I could barely conjugate in my mind. All was gone, and it was all my fault. “I suppose It’s only fair…” I thought to myself, in fact it had been I who once a backed from all of it. “It’s only fair I pay the equivalent”, pondering on why I had been so foolish, I return to my marks.
Little imperfections symbolizing times that seem so far now, intangible. A lively playground lush with trees everywhere engulfing the area, where I once never let go of the swings, even though I often fell. I could vaguely picture the scenery, much less record how perfectly rusty and welcoming the swings were. My playground was now dead.
Suddenly flitters and specs sunk into my eyes, filling my vision with a blurry image of a peculiar stumpy but rather wide structure, simple with nothing but a plain white plaster coating, slowly being picked away and destroyed, as I would soon follow. I barely recognized it, my primary school, filled with so many memories, although I only recall those which were… less fortunate.
Then more specs of different tones came unto my vision, yet another blurred image, but of young faces with which I once coexisted, my classmates as a young child. Upon seeing such faces I felt a rush and a flurry of emotions, a small burst of heat pulsed through my veins, and for a while I felt a small surge of vitality, only to lose it almost as quickly as it had came.
Oh how I remembered the horrid moments I had suffered as a child. I had never been as others were, the grown-ups would say so themselves. I came across even more blurred images, but stringed together, in the form of a small movie. It was of me… crouching it seemed, as I was picking at the ground, and then as I saw the rest of the scene I had noticed the other children were on the other side of the field.
The little strip of film went on, I do not know for how long, what seemed like seconds passed to minutes, hours, and soon and agonizing eternity for as long as the film lasted I saw nothing but myself picking at the ground. Picking, and picking, the sound begun thumping in my head, tormenting me so, reminding me once more of my own stupidity and error. The noise would not cease, and I could bear no more “Please…” I begged, and it suddenly ceased, as if someone were watching, and I was able to open my dry and worn-out eyes once more.
The relief, however, was not nearly long enough for undoubtedly the images would once again reveal themselves, and how right was I, for they did. This time, a very quick string of memories, first I saw myself in a circle of chairs, seated as our teacher was speaking. “He always has his mouth open, its so weird” upon hearing the words I quickly jerked my head to see it came from an old classmate. Suddenly at that same time I saw my younger image’s eyes dilate in what seemed like fear, and then forcedly shut his mouth. “He only closed it because he heard me” she remarked, and suddenly my vision went blank.
Another fast flash and there I saw my classmates at the same young age coming out of a small room accompanied by a teacher, I remember it was the Agenda Room, where students would place their weekly issues that would later be discussed into a little box covered with red paper foil that gleamed when placed just right against the light, (I remember as it strained my vision oh too many times). I saw then myself leaving the room, apparently in conflict with myself as apparently I had caused an ‘issue’ that was released into the box. There I stood with my head low as people murmured remarks in relation to my act.
Then lastly one more quick flash of blinding white light and there I was in the darkness, staring blindly into it once more. I then understood that my error had begun from a very early age. I then stood there again, muttering to myself, as if my mind were already half lost. The time went slowly, too slowly, cold blood ran through my body dulling all my senses, as if to say I was already half dead.
After an even more excruciating period of time, I felt my eyes, to see if I could still bear to shed a tear. Suddenly more specs came into appearance yet again, and this time it was of me still as a child but at a preadolescent age (9 or 10 if I would have had to guess). There I saw myself in my room locked, for hours on end I stood motionless on my bed, sobbing. I remember how on that day I had wished someone could understand but, as always, no one came, and I was left in all my misery.
I could not take anymore, the film would not change, countless hours of lying motionless, suddenly, however, I felt a choking sensation, and the image quickly disappeared as I found myself kneeling on the cold floor, still engulfed in darkness. I had choked myself, precisely to escape from the memory, and I felt a small rush of contentment due to my success.
My small burst of happiness did not last long however, for soon enough memories would not stop being brought from the depths of my mind, and there I was, in every single one, getting older and older in each. As a teenager, at the university of my dreams, at work, everywhere, I saw the same thing, always the same damn thing. In those images lied the same message, isolation.
The images would not stop, they repeated themselves over and over, faster and faster, suddenly everything spinning and I could no longer even distinguish one memory from another. I screamed, I tried to become unconscious, I cried wailed and begged but nothing, it would not stop! And it was then that there was no denying, my error had followed me through the course of my life.
No matter how much I strived physically, or how successful I was intellectually I had never lived in the same world as others, and nothing I did mattered. This cold blood that coursed my veins that had now turned my skin the palest blue, had always been within me, and I was never alive to begin with. I was slowly extinguishing the light in my heart, instead of quickly snuffing it out, only prolonging my self-inflicted pain.
Once again the images stopped and there I was, for a fourth time in that darkness staring blankly into that searing darkness. I stood there, muttering to myself, trying to find out why I had always been so alone. But then I could no longer think, and what was the point? It would not change anything. I stood there still and blank, feeling nothing but a cold breeze tickling my face, mocking me, giving me a fake sense of hope. But I knew from there on, there was no hope, and I am forced to forever live in darkness. “It’s all gone, and it’s my fault…”