Bleed on me
My heart pounded, my head raced at a million miles an hour, my hands became sweaty as my ears ran hot. Every nerve within me was on high alert, more sensitive than they had ever been. Even normal breathing had to get in on the action and doubled itself, as if to compete with my heart’s persistent thumps against the cage of my chest. No other feeling ever felt quite the way this did, no other feeling was ever as irrational and uncontrollable as fear. Anyone can be so happy that they’ll cry, anyone can stop those tears and feel just as happy. Fear takes a hold of you by the throat and threatens to sever the vital connections that run along your spinal column and to your brain.
Nothing can ever happen fast enough when one is driven by fear – feet can never be fast enough, accurate enough and the mind simply forgets to send important signals to everywhere at once. “Run†is the command given, and only half executed. Yet there’s a weakness with fear, a weakness that fights a battle with curiosity and stubbornness. Unfortunately for fear, curiosity and stubbornness make an excellent fighting duo force and more often than not brings fear right back into my face, asking me to relive it “just once more.†Foolishly, I used to listen when it asked, pleaded and tempted me, but not anymore.
My senses are dead, disconnected not fear but by me. As I walk this lone path in a mountain of heavy trees, I am blank. The sound of gravel crunched beneath the rubber soles of my sneakers, the light struggled to make its way through the canopy of leaves. The wind was cold, and I hadn’t made any effort to bring a jumper – I wouldn’t need one where I was going. The option to turn back came and went many meters back; many footsteps have since been made, carrying me closer to what I had planned all along – a warm body, a cold grave. No thoughts crossed through my mind, and it felt as though bodily functions had disabled themselves already.
At last I came to a clearing where a part of the mountain became a small cliff dropping down to a pool of water. This place was familiar to me, I came here daily, and I saw a lot of things here that probably should never be seen and some things that I wished I hadn’t seen. So my feet stood on the edge, gripping onto the ground as much as I used to grip onto any reason for living that would pass my way. Wind screamed eerily through the narrow spaces between the land as my arms held themselves outwards, as though they were wings and I felt the rush of air flow through my hair and attempt to overpower my weight.
With a small twist of my foot, my weight shifted and I became unbalanced, descending downwards toward the water. Panic did not come, fear never set in, adrenaline was dead, excitement didn’t exist; nothing was there anymore, not even time, it seemed as my fall seemed to pass slowly. Calmness was all that stayed around for the show, as the number of meters that came and went started reaching the hundreds – I felt like a feather. I had listened to fear after all. Then finally: nothing.
All I saw last was the sky.
You were provoked by Vittra at 6:04 pm | 12 opinions »
March 19th, 2006
No one likes our writing anymore. Proof I guess that links buy comments?
Cool post though. Very inner-monologue which is usually my thing isn’t it? I like how madly it swung between the first paragraph of high sensation to the opening sentence of the third paragraph.
March 20th, 2006
And you need comments to feel good about yourself and/or your writings Jax? Pity.. I hope Vittra doesn’t feel that way. Do you Vitt?
As for this piece, the tone is very.. Enunciated. The whole of it is very articulated. In a good way of course. But there are parts of it that out-do the rest. For example –
“Nothing can ever happen fast enough when one is driven by fear – feet can never be fast enough, accurate enough and the mind simply forgets to send important signals to everywhere at once. “Run†is the command given, and only half executed.”
- most certainly out-did – “My senses are dead, disconnected not fear but by me. As I walk this lone path in a mountain of heavy trees, I am blank.” – I believe you could have done much more to that. You took ‘panic’ and gave it so many words. And yet you stopped short for ‘numb’, giving it just three. I am sure there’s more to it.
Overall, well said, Vitt.
March 20th, 2006
You should know the answer to that, Prick, with the way I spoke to you about people requesting me to link to them, regardless of whether I visited them, found them any good or not. If I thought links meant comments, I’d have never said a word and my list of links would be excruciatingly lengthy.
I don’t need comments to feel good about myself or what I write, but I do appreciate hearing the opinions and viewpoints of my readers. Not that I would particularly bend backwards to change something if they didn’t like it, but it is nice to give them a window of opportunity to speak. It’s not vital, though – a book doesn’t have a built-in comments system in it, and I generally don’t write to purely please others.
Why do you hope anything about me, Prick?
March 20th, 2006
See if you can follow this prick: If I thought links = comments AND I needed comments, THEN I would have a very long list of links on my blog.
SINCE I do not, I must not need comments on my work.
I like them, sure, everyone does, but that’s not the point really. I like to know that people are reading my work, because yes, I do write to be read. If I didn’t want to be read, then well, I’d just meditate, and not try to express myself with any art of communication. Be that as it may, blogging is not where I see the beginning and end of my writing career. Nay, I will be published in other ways, ways I can be more confidant of being read by someone, more than a one in a billion blogs that apparently people don’t take seriously.
March 20th, 2006
Why do I hope? So I have something to toy with.
Jax, if you’re reading this, are you feeling emasculated? No? Excellent. I’ll have to arrange a spanking for you, Jax.
March 21st, 2006
Firstly, prick, you haven’t the capacity to emasculate me, nor to make me feel emasculated. Vittra on the other hand only inflates my masculinity to the point of explosion.
Secondly, if you do try to spank me, understand that I will fight back. Best of luck to you. Mwahahahaah.
March 21st, 2006
I think Prick said that he would arrange a spanking for you, not that he would administer the spanking himself. I could always take his place for that part.
March 21st, 2006
Before we get on with it Jax, if you had meant, “If I thought links = comments AND I needed comments, THEN I would have a very long list of links on my blog. SINCE I do not, I must not need comments on my work.”, you should not have said “No one likes our writing anymore. Proof I guess that links buy comments?”
I mean come on Jaxy-no-one-likes-our-writing-anymore.. I never said I emasculated you. I even agreed that you were NOT emasculated. Why would I want to emasculate you? You big bad boy you. And of course I am not going to spank you, you do not have the ass that would reqiure my right hand. I’ll just send my minion over. And I know if ‘she’ wanted to spank you, you’d let ‘her’.
And Vittra, don’t get upset with all that ego jousting about, I read the piece again, just for you. You’ll have to take my word for it.
March 21st, 2006
No one likes our writing anymore. Proof I guess that links buy comments? != I wish I had comments I don’t so I’m going to go put on evanescance and slit my wrists.
March 23rd, 2006
This was an interesting suicide. Nice job.
March 24th, 2006
Wow – what a story… Oh, in case you’re wondering i am the person your mum has been telling u aboutfrom her school.
Yeh well, you have a really good blog and the story was really good, except the comments did worry me a litttle,
what with the spanking and all.
Yes well i must be off now but i hope that you will be impressed with my use of “full words” in this comment…Yes thats right your
mum told me about your dislike towards shortened words…
Cya l8rs
Lol- i couldnt leave without at least 1 shortening- just to annoy u
Bye
March 25th, 2006
Oh I don’t think the ‘shortening’ is the ‘what’ that would annoy her..
And don’t worry about the spanking, stuff like that only happens when I’m around, other than me, Vittra’s an angel’s angel. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to attend to my subjects, these Spaniards can be just so needy sometimes.