Young Writers Society

Unsettling silence.

The air is getting thinner by the second, and I have been staring at the ground for what feels like decades.

Surrounded by a circle of large stones, different from one another, yet they all seem to share some sort of common essence.My survival instinct kicks in, as my head is overflowingwith options.

Should I stay silent? Play dead? Pointless. If the past is any indication, large stones care not for my little act. It may work as long as I keep my eyes shut, but the moment I'll open my eyes I'll be back here. Trapped again.

Should I flee then? Impossible. My legs won't move. Even if they did, I never was much of an athlete. Thinking back, I have been running for years. Running from people, from places, from myself. Yet somehow, regardless of the amount of time I spent running, there were always people, there were always places, and there was always me.Whenever membersof the human race feel lost, they find something or someone to turn to. A location indicator if you will- Because if you have no idea where you’re heading, you should at least know where you are.

Some turn to family or friends, some turn to religion, drugs, or altruism. Some stay frozen in place, until the inevitable arrival of their expiration date.Being a member of the human race I was not above having the need for a location indicator.My so called ‘Safe Haven’appeared to be more reliable then family or friends. It was much cleaner then alcohol, More available and socially accepted then drugs, and made much more sense to me then religion.

And so, I fell in love with Sorrow.I was probably too young to remember the first time we met, for I have been in a relationship with sadness since I can remember. After all, one who comes to this world not crying, is feared to be dead.

That doesn't mean I never felt happy or excited though. I could go out with friends or even sing on a stage and truly enjoy it, yet every time I was watching a movie, reading a book,or telling a young lady in school how I feel, I could sense my heart beating heavily, as if it was begging- "break me... Crush me... Shatter my feeble existence". And who could blame me? Sadness did not cost any money, holding on to it was not against the law. If anything, it was extremely convenient to acquire, it brought the kind of pleasure that only goes hand in hand with agony, and it was never out of reach.Just open your eyes and it's wherever you look. The world is more then just bits of sadness of course, but it is everywhere non the less.For some reason I could always find comfort, looking deep into the emerald eyes of that reliable Lady called Despair.

I lost myself in her warmth more times then I can count and she has always been there for me.Whenever I wanted to be inspired, to create a musical piece, or just clean my head completely, I could summon her in an instant by thinking of anything from the Nature of theHuman Race, to this emptyloneliness I brought upon myself every now and again.Only a while ago I could sense the aftermath of our relationship, some sort of emotional entropy. Apparently, Lady Sadness doesn't like sharing her habitat with others, theretofore she did everything in her power to make sure I’ll end up alone, and empty.While Feeding on every single thing that used to fuel me, she grew to inhabit my mind almost Exclusively.Summing her was no longer an option but a default. I could feel myselfgrowing numb,with food slowly turningbland, as moments of sorrow would slap me across the face whenever I was starting to be filled with genuine joy.

By now I’m almost out of oxygen, like a kid deep under water swimming up, doubting his ability to reach the surface with the air he has got left.

For the love of me I have no Idea how I got here, nor do I know what I should do now that I’m here.

As the stones around me begin to morph slowly into semi familiar shapes, I’m left with almost no air at all, kicking and swinging my way for that vague hope of reaching the surface, not knowing what I’m even trying to reach. One thing was certain- I was too stressed to call upon my safe haven. She will not help my this time.With the little power I had left- my feet touch the ground, my muscles work together to supply me a higher vantage point that feels crucial for my survival. Half way there I notice that the circle of stones has turned into a circle of people sitting in cheap looking chairs. With every bit of strength I could muster, I stand up and say-

”Hello everyone. My name is Ben Butler, and I am an addict”.

Unsettling silence...

Very unsettling...