It is quiet. Too quiet. I shout, but I only hear the echoes of my own voice answering me. This has happened before, many times, too many to count, and they all ended not with agony or death—how else would I be here? But this time, something feels different, something smells off.

I pace around, I can smell the lingering scents of the happiness that once existed within these walls, but they are slowly fading as the ticking on the wall grows louder and louder. Time moves slowly yet they move so fast I can’t keep up with the ebbs and flow. Every sound makes me jump, distant or near—the slamming of doors, the sound of heavy footsteps, the jingling of keys, all of it, all at once, I listen, and I wait, and I jump, but it is never who I expect, never who I’m waiting for.

Frustrated and lost, angry and hopeful, dejected and torn, I pace around, I mess things up, tearing pillows up and letting feathers fly, chewing paper up and knocking things down, hoping, wishing, by some higher form of power the likes of me cannot comprehend, my agitation will be heard.

Something has to be wrong. Something is wrong. Something has happened that cannot be undone. Where does that leave me? Am I to perpetually languish in this crisis of an existence? What purpose do I now have? All is lost.

What’s that? My ears prick up to a noise.

Footsteps! Approaching!

I cannot control myself. I shout in joy.

The jingling of keys!

I jump and shout in joy.

The door opens and there he is again. My life, my everything. Oh, how I’ve missed you.

I jump upon him. I kiss him. He laughs, he says something in that strange language of theirs, but I can tell that he is happy to see me too.

Oh, how foolish and faithless I am prone to become. How could I ever doubt his return? Did he not always come back in the past, with a laugh just for me, and gentle loving hands? He will always return. I know. He will always be there for me. I will always be there for him, forever.

One thought on “An Existence in Crisis

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