A dying sun waxes and wanes against the horizon but the sunrise never changes. I've been riding waves for so long now that I can't remember what it feels like to sink my feet into solid ground. In a world hell bent on ascending to some imagined apex of satisfaction I find myself always jumping a little lower than those around me, and likewise falling a little harder back to reality. They say time cures all... it doesn't. With every cycle my feet grow a little heavier and the sky seems a little further out of reach. Twelve years ago I could almost touch it, but today it's as though I barely sense its warmth at all.
I can't fathom how much time I've spent testing variables and theories, constantly pulling the sliders in the equalizer of life. It always seemed to me that there should be some golden equilibrium, some perfect balance, that would cover my eyes and supplant my mind back into the clockwork. But I have twisted and turned for years and the sound has stayed the same. Against the highest ascent I still have not learned to lift my foot from the ground. Another sunrise, another sunset. All I can do is envy those who pass by.
But perhaps I lie when I say I've tested every variable, though it certainly feels as if I have. The truth, however, is that there is one key I have yet to place into the lock. It's a solution that I have always kept in the back of my mind but never had the resolve to pursue. Perhaps this was because it was all I had left. When a hundred other keys failed to seduce the tumblers, this was the one ace up my sleeve. It was the last ounce of hope I had left, and I didn't dare risk seeing it die... not even if it meant never knowing its worth. Not even if it meant riding a sinking ship to the bottom of the ocean. But desperation is master of the human mind. Desperation leads us to make decisions we cannot make on our own. To be human is to be desperate. By all means, I am still desperate.
And so I have lit my final match, hoping that it might be the one that reignites a long dead flame. Against a sea of failure I am held afloat by this final prayer. Should it fail... there will be nothing left but to embrace the reality that I am broken and cannot be repaired... to embrace the end before it has arrived.
On a distant horizon the sun has awakened from its slumber, and as does the blade of the guillotine it stands ready to descend and sever the last vestiges of hope. The light it casts is so maddeningly painful that I cannot bear to look into the sky. For all I know hope may have already begun the descent into its final demise, promising one last beautiful sunset before the world turns to black.
I wait patiently beneath a dying sun... waiting for closure... waiting for miracles... expecting darkness.
But today I am alive still, and hope does not yet rest in its grave. I can only hope that means something.
