The soothing pressure brought me the pleasure only the most severe acute pain could stymie. I looked to the sky for the last time, as I knew that I would not endure until time had passed the third moon.
For the first year, the elusiveness of my thoughts had conjured emotions I believed to have been lost to me as a child. A man did not feel this way. A man was strong, detached, and ruthless. A man was to be the provider for the family, bring home what was needed, and care for them so that not one could say that the family ever felt the hardship of destitution. The thoughts, yes, the thoughts. They eluded me at whim. I saw them in my dreams, while I woke, and throughout my day. I could feel it when I was close, and then, yes, they escaped me to live the rest of their lives for someone else. The atrociousness of my quandary, left me wondering if I would not lose my mind and, like the thoughts that evade and pervade at the same time, need to live the rest of my life for someone else. Might it possibly be for a doctor in an institution for the insane, or criminally insane, or perhaps a circus as the lap dog that does those wonderful tricks? I did not know. And, as I pondered this, another of those dreadful thoughts inched closer, waiting, watching, examining my every move as to find the opportune time to overpower me.
I must forget about this. For over two years I have had the pleasure of not having the malevolent thoughts attempt to take me. This could not be more precious to one who has endured such chaos than to have but one second of peace. And, being such a person, I turn my thoughts foolishly to the second year.
Ah, the second year. Like hell in a hand basket delivered to my front door by Satan himself. I endured more than a man should for the second year. While the outside appearance of the second year may have seemed normal to the average passer-by, the truth was that I no longer enjoyed the game that upset so bad, yet still made my life as comfortably miserable as one who enjoys masochism might hope for. The transition, which was not apparent at the time, did not feel like transition at all, but instead, like a slow moving cancer that crept up upon you and slowly ate the insides until nothing remained. The thoughts, which had originally come as sudden as winter, realized the futility of their original angle, and instead came from a different direction. I was unsure if they were there to help, or to hinder, as they had never fully reached me, but they now snuck up on me, reaching as far as the back of my leathery old brain, and as far forward as the tip of my tongue. I could not keep the there, for if I tried, they would attack my brain and leave me in the type of pain one would only wish upon their worst enemy. And so it was, I was left to wither away, only to be remembered by those who knew me for the slight and slow plummet into my current state.
Yes, my current state. Or what you might call, “now.” A sad sight to those who knew me, and those who did not would not care, as I have sadly come to realize. I enjoy the times alone, where the thoughts may not touch me. The vile thoughts, the iniquitous thoughts, the thoughts that have plagued me for years, and only now they have failed their all-important talk. They may not touch me. They may not intrude into my brain to dance around my tongue, or stay in the back of my brain, or sit on the top of my head. They may not violate me anymore. For in my suit of armor I sit. With this armor none can harm the all-mighty, for I am the one who is in control from this point forward. This fine jacket of special powers tells me so; the special meals tell me so; the ever-powerful static which emanates so freely from the four glowing white walls and has bequeathed the power up me tells me so.
So, thoughts, if you dare, enter my lair, enter to find the able, enter to find your doom. The static shall bring forth justice. The static shall take care of you as it did me. You may not evade the static as you once eluded me. You will not live another day to torture and torment. For the static knows all. The static is my friend. The static is now the protector.
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