Journals of a Broken Hand

Today was the strangest day of my life. The colours whizzed past my eyes like a boy lost on the side of a highway. Bursts of red and green, mixed with the flashing of headlights… zooming across my face, breaking my concentration every time I remembered how to think.

I have found it impossible to accumulate broken dreams, if I never have any to begin with. You cannot break what does not exist, and so my spirit shall never be broken. I travel down through my mind… lost between the cars and the trucks, the honking and the passing. Each car leaving with every exit, only to be replaced four fold, with cars flying up the on ramps to my brain.

I travel till I come to my eyes… fixated on a beautiful face, fixated on a face of purity and loyalty. My eyes grow and squint, trying to find the perfect focus for such a wonder as her face. If only I could feel my heart… if only I could feel the beat or the pulse of my blood through my body, if only I could feel something… anything.
But I lie here, lifeless and alone… with nothing but the constant murmur of pain to keep my sanity in check.
And so my eyes stare, and my brain thinks, and the world spins around… what a strange feeling this is, to be broken in a fixed up world.

And so I see myself, sitting here, alone and unnoticed…. ostracized from the world. Through the darkness, I can still see her face, placed within the back of my head… hidden but still visible, just enough to keep me alive. The blood flows through me, but I cannot feel it… my bones are broken, but I cannot see it. And so I lay here, in the absolute, waiting for the sincerity of forgiveness… of love… or death.

I have lived the life of a bird with broken wings; the ability to do just what I was made for has been taken away. All my life, I have been broken, I have been… different. All my life, I could not fly. All I could ever do is sit, and watch as the world spins around me in the sky… floating hundreds of feet above me, as I lie in nothingness. Smeared with dirt and ash, my eyes burn, a single tear of solitude falls to my hand, and I stare as the droplet runs down the side of my hand to the ground. The wind picks up, and the world flies away, leaving me here, covered in shit.