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dafremen
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The call was unexpected. No, really I suppose it wasn't. They locked her up again. Up where the crickets chirp like cows.
Back in some room where the nightmares wouldn't stop coming, but where, at least, they wouldn't get out to lash out at the rest of us.
It'd been a long time coming, you know, but you hope and pray that it won't happen..that things will get better. For years I'd been the target, the victim of her personal demons. I tried so hard to help. You can't have gone through what the three of us went through as children and not care for another who's been through the same thing. You just can't.
And so I cared for her. With everything I had I cared. With every ounce of love, every scrap of patience I cared. Every bit of compassion and concern I had was focused on helping her get better. I didn't do it out of some self righteous sense of obligation. I certainly didn't do it in the hope of receiving some great reward in a far off hereafter that I don't believe in. I did it because that's what we're supposed to do. We're supposed to care for and look after one another. That's all.
Such a simple thing, so hard it seems for the world to get it right. It's much easier to blame it on God or the Devil or the way things are.
But it wasn't someone else. It was us. All of us. We did this to her. We did it to her mother, who did it to her daughter who did it to her own. And we're still doing it every day. We're damaged goods and we don't know it, because when you grow up in a sanitarium you don't know what crazy is anymore. And we're fucking crazy. What we do to each other and especially to our children..that is crazy. The way we treat each other, view each other, posture and strut around with our opinions like kids fighting for momma's attention..like dogs posturing for Alpha status..that is crazy. Taking to get, hurting for "happiness", killing for peace, caging ourselves away with rules in the name of freedom. All of these things are crazy.
Well they say she's crazy too. But in the end, it's only a matter of degrees. We drew a line in the sand and said "THIS is how far we let our insanity go, and no further." For now. But it's been getting crazier every year. It's just been creeping up on us so slowly and for the sake of such "sensible" reasons that we haven't noticed. Hell we rarely take the time to think about it anymore anyway.
But a quick reality check reveals that we're eating our young alive. We're cannibalizing our own kind in the name of nothing that really matters. We're producing little copies of our sickness and making it stick. And they'll do the same, because our ways are a self replicating hole in the head. And in the end, for our troubles, maybe we'll eat and fuck and shit and squeeze out more yunguns. Maybe we'll have and want eat and fuck some more. Maybe we'll pray to medical science to conjure up a little immortality and maybe it'll happen. And maybe along the way we'll never stop and ask ourselves "who the hell wants a walking disease that never dies?"
Survival of the fittest is a joke if what comes out on the other side is a crime against life itself.
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