Philosophy of the Dark-Chapter 16: Hey guess what? I don't think there's any prophanity in this one!
Chapter 16
-One night to choose
-On both accounts
She was halfway to 'the spot' before she realized the flaw in her brilliant running away idea. Her notebook was still back there.
All of her ideas, her words, her life was stuck there. Physically free, but mentally trapped in hell.
So what was worse? Loss of purpose with freedom, or loss of freedom with a purpose?
Whatever the answer it had to be found out soon.
Jamie got out of her car, tears still erupting from her eyes, insides still laughing, body still shaking. Nobody was here, as expected. Who went to a freaking wash in the middle of the night just for the heck of it.
Jamie skidded down into it, rocks loosening and skittering around her like disturbed ants. She walked past the car and through the tunnel. Graffiti of every sort decorated the walls, some artful and colored, others black scribbled lines.
It was dark here, puddles of left over rain and collected mud speckled on Jamie's jeans leaving cold spots on them, setting shivers through her body.
The atmosphere was oddly soothing, whereas most others would find it creepy, disturbing even, but Jamie felt at home. Only safer.
There was nobody here to beat her into submission, nobody to pin her down, cover her mouth with their disgusting hands. Nobody treating her body as if it wasn't hers. Here she could be free.
A small smile escaped her lips, letting a single tear drop enter the side of her mouth. Salty and sticky mixed with sweat.
But now where? Where could she go without being found? How would she get her writing back?
Jamie looked behind her, into the darkness. She could no longer see the tunnel or the car. Just the darkness and the graffiti around her.
She took a miniature permanent pen out of her pocket, uncapping it and holding it up to one wall, in one of the few empty spaces.
***
There's only one night to make the ultimate choice. Life or death. Words or freedom.
Or both.
I'm afraid of what could happen if I got both. It should be one or the other. You can't be alive and dead at the same time can you? Well, maybe you could.
These words are going to be washed away anyways, so why should I care to write them? Because these words are my life. They are my soul, and without them, sure I may live, but the part of me that revels in that fact will be dead.
The only way to get both this wonderful freedom and life would be to save the words, and go back to hell. If just for a little while.
The second I left I felt like I could do anything. Like I didn't
have to be tied down by ropes and duct tape. Like maybe I could make a life for myself.
But what kind of life is one not worth living.
Here's my advice to you, reader. Find your passion, soon. Find the one thing the world that seems all yours, even if others share your passion. Because with that passion comes individuality about whatever it is.
Find what makes you happy, and hang onto it with dear life, because the second you let it go, you it runs away. And trust me, it's a bitch to try to catch. Just trust me, somehow I know.
One night to choose, results in my fate. I know this, yet I have trouble accepting it.
Have I already let go? Is this going to be a wild chase to the end?
Or is it already over?
***
She put the pen away, and took a moment to read her writing over before turning and walking back toward 'the spot'.
The tunnel came into view, the car, Jamie's car in the background on the hill. It was so familiar, so normal that Jamie was half-expecting something to go wrong. The thought sped her heart, quickened her breathing to match
her pace. She got to her car, still alive, and for some reason it seemed
wrong.
Maybe it was because of the choice she made.
She was going back.
Now posted: POD 17- A point of re-direction 
