departation

Arriving back in Newcastle was like a kick in the throat, the realization of what I was here for hit me like the ice-cold wind. Finally, I knew that all my worries could be over. Just one small form to change the rest of my life, my future, my character, my career. People greeted me with little despair, many understanding but others weary, uncompromising. But my mind was made up, a previously hard decision that had now come to lay at rest. Nothing remained to be weighed up, considering other options had been completed and all that was left was to carry out the task which lay before me. What else was there to do apart from say my farewells?
The exam missed me like a dog misses its collar. Naturally. Meetings in the nest were hard, harder than I had planned to allow. All these unforeseen hurdles, convincing me, probing me. But what could I do now, the task had been fulfilled, the others had suffered and all that was left was to embark on the ride to my future. Well, if things had gone to plan, perhaps this would have been the finale. The Hancock beckoned for more goodbyes, more sadness and another play with honesty. The devil was making her mark, extracting personal details, giving no leeway. No choices were offered, everything forced, private signals made until her departure, a blessing. Slowly but surely, her over generous sidekick followed in her footsteps, making his unique mannerisms known, cuddling cuddlies. Strange. Until it was us, and only us. Except for the ever more public lesbians, providing those willing with a free show, live viewings and we had the best seats. Conversation flowed like water streaming down the mountain, no objects to overcome, just reaching for the horizon, only coming to a halt when interrupted by constant changes, unable to be altered manually. The rain arrived, causing dampening, providing free misery, no place for cowering. We left. I walked back spinning, my mind anyway, unable to concentrate on the surroundings, the noise, the people. An event concurring with a near death, close crash, drunken riding, a collapse on the road. Why, in times of trouble, does everything seem hilarious, unaware of the near happening, focusing only on the reactions of others. His awe of this wondering life, thirst for variation. His naivety protruded informing him about the places, the rules, the cultures lived by many of my friends. Its hard to explain in a good light, and yet that’s all he let shine. He was intrigued by the apparent lack of compassion required with a life like this. An attempted explanation does not fulfill the requirement. The emotional side, the loss, the short-lived loves, all too much for words to present. No explanation can give justice, only experience.
I removed a brick from the wall last night. It became a trend, one by one leaving, following the advise of the previous. A temporary fashion, but a fashion all the same. A gap emerged, creating the possibilities, the explanations came, the stories, an opening in which to climb into the mind of another. But such a task is impossible to undertake alone.
I repaired the barrier today. Alone. Not with the same slow pace as the last, this was an easy job, no requirements met, none needed. The easiest job in the world, so fast, so light. Yet perhaps the worst, unnecessary, painful. The constant replaying of this game becomes a burden. No longer a novelty, just a slap from behind. Each and every time the hole enlargens, yet the reparation gets easier. The break down requires more and more strength until you reach the defining point, it cannot go on, the game is over. But who wins, the repair man or the demolisher, Ironic, its usually the nice, kind helpful repairman, yet he’s the worst, the most evil, on a par with Satan. Complications set in, you want a re-match but there’s no strength left, how could you possibly overcome this, the end has come, the decision was made. And now there’s no going back.
So many questions remain, so many unanswered. Feelings are no longer felt, just explained. And without the explanation, you feel on the edge with nothing to hold onto. Any moment, any wrong footing and you could be falling. No one to help you, nothing to save you. Only the careful movement and the precise placing. Unable to ask, not wanting to cause any disturbance. It’s all too repetitive. If you say something, it’s broken. No longer will you remain. But it cuts you, deeply. There’s nothing you can do, just continue, no changes, no variation, just wait. Maybe it'll happen for you, probably not, you'll hurt. A lot. For a long time. But how can you be sure. Can't feel. Can't ask.
On my short return, all I can do is to think. To listen, to imagine. But nothing meaningful develops, no harm done. Perhaps that’s the good. All I want is to know, I will never know unless I ask. Asking is no option. The wondering, the curiosity, secrets crushing, the yearning. It all causes a strain on the relationship. Maybe I'm the only one aware. I hope so. I shall never ask, just hope. Whatever happens, there will always be the hope, the instinct, the desire. Yet the knowledge of the destruction possible, the pain that could be caused, all perhaps for no reason. The fucking wall. And I know, I've been there before, it’s happened to often. Like a recurring dream. But its reality, its certainly no dream, closer to horror. How to break the routine, the pattern, the unhealthy starvation. All because of the barrier separating my mind from my actions, the padlocks, too strong to break, rejecting any possibility of entering my head. It’s always the same. A guarantee. You can blame the repairman, the cause of self-destruction, a slow way forward to hatred. Hatred as strong as that in hell, yet for no one else but yourself. The sweet lack of self-respect. The self-doubting and disregard. Yet all that is seen is arrogance, selfishness. No time for help, no time to see past the outward facade, the outer bravura, how can you call. Call for help. What happened to clarity, to understanding and assistance? The people surrounding me, none of them know, none of them look for the signs, they hide away from things. To them, I am just another commuter, a traveler, a tourist. How wrong can they be. Looking in the depth of my eyes, the only give away. Uncontrollable. My lyrics, people don’t listen, and when they do nothing registers. Just noise. Beautiful. Loud. Shut up. The person next to me, a pensioner, no leg. A murderer, abuser, pure hatred, a pedophile, my true love, my brother, by another mother. Who knows. No clues, no traces left. Anyone, any background, secrets not let out, secrets they cant hold in, who better to tell than the lone companion beside you in the carriage. The journalist, the policeman, social services, the counselor, your unknown sister-in-law. Life goes on. If you would call it a secret, perhaps its best left untold, hidden among the unbreakable forces of your brain. Invisible to the outer eye, only found by those willing to search, those let in.