Merry-Go-Round

Merry-Go-Round

(inspired by the stripped down version of "Witness" by Daughtry)

            It is just too much. Sickness, death, starting new. Starting for the first time. She feels so empty, so gray, but there’s a hint of color yet it is buried deep. She reaches for it, tries to capture the color, but it is allusive. She cannot snare it on her own. There is no one, though; she is alone. In the four walls of her cocoon, she sits. Alone. She believes there is no one and her mind goes to places, bad places. Alone. Round and round. Worrying. Always the same. She is certain there is no one. If there was someone, she wouldn’t be in the gray and wanting the color.

            Her days are the same. So heavy, it takes what little energy she has just to walk through her days. Alone. No one else to hold her hand. She stares at her hand. What would it feel like if someone took it, helped her towards the color? Or maybe there is no guide? Is she her own guide? She wonders if she can do it on her own.

            But her mind starts in again, confuses her, drags her back to the gray. In the gray is uncomfortable security. She spins in the gray, the minutes, the hours, days, weeks, months. Infinity? But there’s that hint of color. She reaches for it, wants it. She does not want to succumb to the gray. She does not want to rest in the black.

            But the world… More sickness, more reminders she is alone. The worry does not stop and it drags her down, so far down the color is gone. She becomes the gray and she leaves gray footprints on the road as she goes. The road leads home which is of no comfort because at home there is just alone.

Sitting on the cold tile, she is joined by the gray. Not just the gray, but the Gray. It takes her hand and fills her with cold. It speaks and says the only answer that is the right one lays before her.

            It is small but it glints in the light as if inviting her to pick it up. The Gray encourages her and she reaches towards it but she can’t make her fingers pick it up. They are numb. Her body is numb. Her mind, though, is going. Round and round and up and down. The Gray’s voice is loud now; It tells her it’s the only way. Your pain will be gone…

            And that’s really what she wants. The pain from being alone, from having her world be so heavy, is intense and she wants it gone. The Gray repeats over and over. Your pain will be gone… Your pain will be gone… Your pain will be gone…

            Finally, she reaches out and touches the silver rectangle. A charge of electricity rushes through her arm and she pulls back. She is shaking; she feels sick. Your pain will be gone… Your pain will be gone… Your pain will be gone…

            You’ll no longer be alone.

            A cry escapes her lips and the tears are slow as they make their way down her face. Again, she reaches out and touches the rectangle. She manages to pick it up and it glints in the light again. For ages, she looks at it and feels how sharp the edge is with her fingertip. It won’t take much pressure to begin the journey to the black.

            But then she sees in the narrow mirrored band a reflection. Her reflection. Just a small piece of herself and it shocks her. The Gray suddenly shrinks, startling itself. Am I this? she asks herself. Is this me?

            Alone, the Gray screams. You are alone.

            I know but is this me? She stands and stares at her full reflection and sees a person for the first time. When was the last time she saw this person? When was the last time she saw herself?

            She looks down at the silver rectangle and lets it clatter into the sink. Slowly, she looks back up at her reflection. You are here. You. Are. Here.