Obsession

The incomprehensible is disturbing to the rational. They make up explanations as to ‘how’ and ‘why’ because to them not understanding something is not healthy.

So in the night, when you are deep in your horrible, recurring nightmares of questions without answers; as you pry your eyes open with your fingers and stifle a scream into your pillow, only to realize that you are awake and that you are living the dream, the cyclone will start to spin.

That whirlwind of confusion and destruction that blows through your mind, obliterating the little sanity you possess, and killing you slowly as you cling to the final shreds of your soul.

The vortex that has lingered in the back of your mind, like a stalker in a thick night fog, waiting for his victims just beyond their line of vision. Waiting to slowly and methodically tear them apart, piece by piece. Anticipating the exaltation of their blood pulsating over his hands. Waiting to sink his fangs into their tender young hearts as he tears it from their chests.

In a desperate attempt to construct a solution to some unsolvable problem, you unconsciously increase the whirlwinds velocity. In your heart you know your explanations are wrong, and this knowledge brings forth new questions. Are you truly wrong? Are you kidding yourself? What is the Truth, the real answer? But because there is no answer, you devise more schemes and explanations to justify yourself. The cyclone spins faster as it becomes harder to be rational. Less becomes understandable, more becomes irrational. It spins faster and faster, killing you, destroying everything! Only after scattering your mind like hundreds of tiny puzzle pieces does it slowly begin to stop.

One by one you pick up the shards of you shattered consciousness, painstakingly resurrecting yourself. Suddenly you are terrified; the last price of this puzzle doesn’t fit. It came from the puzzle, right? So why doesn’t it fit? You are able to see everything that surrounds where this god-damned piece goes, but the zenith of the puzzle is on this one piece. So you try to rationalize this, triggering the cyclone once again. Except this time it spins faster, and when it’s done, four pieces don’t fit. Again and again the cyclone turns until none of the pieces fit together, like a mountain of pieces from a billion different puzzles. And just as you mind is about to explode with the winds battering force, an answer doen’t seem so important. With a battered shell for a mind, you abandon your quest for answers – for the Truth – and set off hoping to reconstruct your life.

Inevitably, you rebuild yourself, erasing everything that has transpired from you mind. Eventually you are almost as good as new. But something is wrong. Something is dead wrong.

As you stare out of your sleep into the blackness, as the cyclone starts to spin again, you wonder – why doesn’t this one piece fit?

J.A.
2/24/2007