If you came here a few days ago, you would have realized I took down "Sweet Escape" and replaced it by "California".
Because at this juncture, turning my head towards the opposite direction in the wake of everything that's coming to light and do nothing but run is an act of cowardice.
The opposite - walk towards it - would be the simplest display of valiantness.
Of course I know. But who on earth will resort to cowardice if he has the chance to be a hero? I know all right, what should be done and what's best be done. But I have not even the least of courage needed to even look at the matter in the eye.
The inevitable came. For a moment or two I hoped it would just get itself a total beauty makeover. But no, and this stubborn ugly hideous-looking THING just refuses to, and still has the face to stare back at me, with eyes ever so reprimanding.
What? My fault?But wait. It WAS my fault that it looked like this. Out of stupidity and ultimate foolishness and carelessness that it became so hideous. However much I wish I could disown that, it'll only remain as another fat hope of mine. But what horrified me was not how it looked like (told you I'm not so superficial) rather the series of events which tail behind the arrival of IT. Even my fingers shuddered at the mere thought.
According to my innate ability to predict the future - of what I call Prophecy of Impending Doom - doom is the word I see awaiting.
I stand, rooted on the ground, in it's presence. It's coming, preparing to engulf me as a T-lymphocyte would a bacteria. I know I SHOULD walk up and wrestle till I come home victorious. I know IF I persist victory is promised. I know. I all know.
Yet what's the use of knowing everything that I SHOULD do by heart, if I myself am not even convinced I CAN do it in the first place? The tip. The cliff. The breaking point. Which is sooner than you thought. Am I gonna be a cliffhanger and cling onto the last strand of self-delusion and fallacy, albeit all truths have come to light? Are there room for redemption? Can my confidence be reconstructed and my soul be resurrected from the ashes of the dead?
I don't know. You tell me 'YES absolutely so'. I question 'How are you sure?'
You kept silent, before murmuring, barely audibly, 'Because you HAVE to.'
There! There! Evidence of Great Expectations superimposed on me! As I scaled to greater heights on this ladder I've constantly been climing, a mistake means goodbye-you-are-so-dead.
And yes goodbye-I-am-so-dead now.
I can't help it. The more I see my Prophecy of Impending Doom materialising, the more my ankles urge to dash away, away from this tough spot I'm standing on. Yet voices echoed for me to stay. But how on earth am I suppose to do that, when my skeletons threaten to crumble with every inch nearer IT draws?
***
Sorry for boring you down with my getting all emo. Since tear wells are all dried up, this is my only resort at the moment.
My Sweet Escape no more, with California, here we come!
