~mad men create madmen~

Dear You,

I shouldn’t be writing this right now, but I don’t what else to do. He’s hovering over our shoulders practically stepping inside our minds controlling our every move. I was only on my way to Philadelphia in pursuit of letting my words be nurtured and sown into the minds of thousands, one day maybe millions. The tracks are leading to the right destination, but I think I got in at the wrong time.

He’s making madmen out of us. Our shadows no longer live on the walls, but on our faces. Closing my eyes means I’ve let him win, and I can’t do that. I just can’t! You wouldn’t have known he was dangerous. Yes, he looks like an enemy to the poor with his leather shoes and briefcase that is worth more than the apartment I can’t afford, but dangerous? Definitely not. If he would have asked me for a night, I would have said yes. He seemed so safe.

There are nails scratching in my brain, but even that feels better than the wicked smile he gives us. His eyes turn red where there should be green, and I become hypnotized. For every second we lock eyes, my soul has been put through an eternity of damnation.

It’s 3:45 p.m. I’m sure it’s sunny outside, but the windows are painted a rich black that makes it seem like we’re trapped in the night with no freedom to dream. I feel myself slowly falling victim to his games. I pray, and I pray, but he keeps swimming in the blood of my thoughts. I used to think the mirror was so beautiful and capable, but he has made me take a knife to the person in it. She just cries tears and screams in agony as she tries to sew a sparkle to her eye. If I could bury a mirror I would, but then there’d be two caskets.

I hope this is only purgatory or else I might live the rest of my life in a straight jacket so I can’t keep using my eyes as pin cushions. The man doesn’t even speak but he puts the most horrendous sentences through my head. I used to think my fingers sounded like music, but now they’re just teeth hitting metal spoons. I thought that since I had a signed piece of paper on the wall, maybe I had a mind that worked. It turns out a rock, of which family I could not tell you, contains more intelligence than I. I might as well be a broken fence post next to a brick wall. Why am I thinking such thoughts? Why have I become my enemy?

I have to get off this train, but he’s getting closer. It’s impossible to leave because there are no exits, only entrances. He knows that I’m writing this; I just feel it. I don’t know what he’s going to do, but I have to get off.

I’m sure this cry of desperation will never reach you, but I hope you know from the bottom of my heart you are an ocean of meaning and purpose. You deserve more than the sky can offer you, and I hope you take my spirit with you on all your endeavors. If a star could burn brighter than the sun, they’d name it after you.

Rest in life.

From,

Me