I have no idea where this is going. It is unedited and any further posts will be the same….
The bottles all looked so inviting. Golden liquids and dark mahoganies. So many unique types with all their own flair and characteristics. The man stood before them staring, gazing from bottle to bottle. What harm would it really be to pick up one of these bottles and head home. What harm would there be in letting their spirits wash away the memories that destroy the peace that his life does not know. He remembers what the warm feeling is like. The delicious soothing buzz that would erase the worries of the day and the horrors of a life lost. In the end what is it really going to matter if he picked up the bottle and had one night of bliss. The man reached out and picked one of the bottles off of the shelf. He turned it in his hand feeling the weight of it. He suddenly felt the pressure of those around him. He could feel their cold hard stares judging him. Casting shame in his direction at the very thought of what he wanted to do. “How dare you!” “Disgusting!” “Pathetic” Their voices rang in the back of his mind. Each moment that passed a dulling ringing began to sound from within his ears and his heart began to race. Cold sweat began to bead on his forehead as he stood their battling his own thoughts. The struggle was always there. There was never a true moment of calm. Clarity would always be a fleeting thing. One thing began to cut through the moment. The knife that guided his hand to set the bottle back on the shelf and step away. The shame of knowing how his family would view him if he went back to that life. In a world where he knew no one or was completely isolated from any judgment he would have easily taken that bottle home and downed it until he could not remember even his own name. He did not live in that world
Shakily he found the will to move away from the display and took the few things he had collected from the store to the front check out. This was almost his daily routine. Fighting these ever present battles. Maybe the day would come when he did not have to worry about slipping back into that dark habit. This was the hardest time though. Work done for the day his mind no longer occupied with the menial tasks that kept him busy. Freedom was the most dangerous thing when it came to a mind that liked to live in the seedy places of the past. Idle hands, idle minds would be just the same.
As he placed the few groceries he had selected for his dinner and breakfast the next day at the check out he could still feel the eyes of all those around him staring. The oppressive feeling fed his anxiety and would not dissipate until he was able to get back to his apartment where he could shut the door on the stares of others. The common moments in life could be hell for someone who felt what he did. Feelings that were amplified in the recent past by the events that gouged at life.
The items on the belt were his focus, doing what he could to ignore the world and be aware of its every object at the same time. Finally the clerk said the obligatory greeting and began to scan his items. The man nodded at the young lady and said nothing. The total flashed on the display in front of him and he fumbled in his wallet, finding and handing his card to the girl and stood there for what seemed like ages until she handed both his card and a receipt to the man. He collected his bag from the elderly bagger and nodded again as the two of them said “good day” in almost perfect stereo.
Stepping out into the night air he lets its coolness fill his lungs. The sweat on his brow now felt cold and damp. His shirt clung to his lower back, a feeling that was not pleasant in the least. He stood there for a moment. Collecting his wits and calming his nerves. The anxiety began to fade away and his heart began to beat at a more normal pace.
“Watch out!” he was jolted from his peace as someone came out of the store and bumped into him and remarked rudely. He grunted a response and took that as a cue to head for his car far in the back of the parking lot. The parking lot was deserted yet he still parked where no one would notice him coming and going. Unlocking the car with his free hand he placed his bag on the seat next to him and turned the key in the ignition. Luckily the ride home was not a long one. His solitary rides in his car were not things of calm. It was a time when he was stuck with his thoughts. Prisoner of the small space and the solitude. Even the radio or music would not help. Music would find a way to remind him of the past. All of the songs that he once loved were tainted by it. And news or talk radio would not be enough to occupy his mind. He sighed and put the car into drive.
The Streets were filled with the working masses. City streets in the average American city. Torrence was the picture of rockwell’s dreams. Small shops lined its main street. Businesses of all types that made for strolling on a sunny day. In the darkness of night all the storefronts were dark though except for the few diners and a Chinese restaurant that was open every day of the year. He past the dark store fronts wondering what a normal life was like. All of these people coming to and from work. The kids walking home from activities at school. The families heading out for a supper out. What was a normal life like. It could not be that he was living such a thing. If that was the case then whatever god was watching all of this had a sick sense of humor. The man wondered at this every day. Wondered why he did not have the same smile on his face or light hearted laugh he saw and heard in so many others.
His thoughts consumed him as his body took over on auto pilot. It was so often that he got to where he was going without even remembering the journey. His mind always conversing and battling. Back and forth. Movies of memories past and what should have been, what should have happened, What no longer could. Coming back to reality he realized he past his apartment a few blocks ago and quickly found a street to double back on. These moments happened all too often. Lost in his mind reality suffered. Sighing he turned the corner and pulled his car into his parking space behind his apartment building.
It was not the place you would find the successful in life, nor was it the place of the dope fiends and felons. It was a place where people simply lived to get through every day. Quietly in their own little worlds. They did not make a point to get to know you. No one was throwing a party to have everyone over. It was where those with the will just to survive came to go through the motions and get to the next day. It was a place where your history was an unknown and that was okay. It was the kind of place the man needed. A place where he could escape and have no presence in the world. At least that is what he thought he needed. All he knew was that he was alone. And as he sat in the car with the engine running he was reminded of the lonely little place of the world he had carved out.
He cut the engine and left the world for the night.
Cracked Illusion 