Sunday, August 22, 2010

Sunday Post

Light the fuse.

1 comment:

  1. Light the fuse. Back away. Run like hell.

    Three steps. One. Two. Three. If life were anime, I’d compare it to a waltz. A waltz with death. A waltz with life. A waltz with the cosmos. One. Two. Three.

    Life isn’t anime, though. And I’m not dancing. I’m sweating.

    It says easy strike on the side of the matchbox, but I’m struggling with it. This match has been in my hands for four, five minutes. Maybe four, five hours. Maybe four, five seconds. I wouldn’t stake my life on any of the possibilities.

    Stake my life? Heh. That’s exactly what I’m doing.

    Light the fuse. Back away. Run like hell.

    One. Two. Three.

    I can’t decide which hand is shaking more. The hand that’s holding the matchbox is trembling visibly. The hand that’s gripping the match is quivering tightly on the inside, as if shivering against an icy cold the rest of my body cannot feel.

    Except my gut. I can feel the icy gold in my gut. It’s paralyzing.

    I keep telling myself it’s for a good cause. I keep telling myself that anyone inside left their innocence in their shoes they took off at the door. It doesn’t matter who they are. They may still be naïve, but they are no longer innocent.

    Light the fuse. Back away. Run like hell.

    One. Two. Three.

    It almost hurts to swallow. It almost hurts to breathe. It almost hurts to –


    I did it. Just like that. I did it.


    Ah! I can’t afford to trip. Not now. Not now. Not now.

    Thr –