Inner Workings of the Clockwork City

Written By: Abe Redstone

I sit in a room with no windows, on a couch with nothing but my cell phone screen illuminating my face at 2 in the morning. This scene isn’t so different from my life five months ago, and at the same time, my life has changed drastically. The love of my life, the woman whom I pledged my world to, my wife, sleeps in the bed beside my spot of contemplation instead of not speaking to me…

Five months ago I never dreamed this could or would happen as I was in complete denial and hiding from myself. I would tell myself I am a horrible person, and do horrible things, to give merit to the feelings I had felt were apart of me. Those deeds filled my mind and sometimes, I would fool myself into thinking that I was happy and that I was right and just and fulfilled.

Fulfillment. It’s a word I’ve never been able to understand. Nothing has ever been enough. I am in a constant state of consumption. I would be a great cannibal, an amazing connoisseur of all things, if that could be possible. I’ve come to realize I am not a demon, or a thirsty scoundrel who wakes in the morning only to see if I can make the world stop moving. I never sought death, only despair. There is a comfort in sadness that I am all too familiar with. I enjoy sorrow, and I enjoy emotional pain. I don’t know what it is to be happy, fulfilled, or satisfied with any part of life.

What does it mean when you wake up smiling? What is it when you get weight on your chest and feel your heart pounding as you stare into somebody’s face who tells you “I never gave up on you, I’ve always loved you.”

Ultimate acceptance, ultimate support, a soft hand on you’re back, “keep going.” Everybody deserves love, even when you only seek to destroy. ©

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