Monster Made Of Memories

1

Odd.

I like this word. It’s odd. It reminds me of people, the complexity of their brains. Reminds me of meanings, of life as a whole. It is all overwhelmingly odd. Words are odd too. One single spoken collection of sounds can twist into a thousand meanings, each one a different side to the same blade.

I like words like I like odd. Both are so dazzlingly descriptive and yet so startlingly vague. Both can make you bleed rivers as they are thrown whilst they soothe your mind with their sweet mumbles of safety. They allow the general knowledge of this vast universe to become smaller. Giving us a neat category to slot things into. Something cool to lessen the pain of all these boiling questions that will never truly freeze inside the cage of our minds.

Categories are safe.

Safe as they hold the understanding of knowledge that does not fit with emotions. Categories are false facts yet they feel safer than any unknown. Safe inside the boxes that itch against my skin like a thousand needles, each extracting something more from my being. And yet they are safe.

Safe like silence. Odd just like silence. Broken like words, but never the same. Different till times end, for words fight the numb soundless still with blades made of silver tongues that slash the stoney walls of soft, soft, silence.

I miss silence.

I hate silence.

Isn’t that odd. Odd, odd, odd, odd, odd. I’m odd, strange, peculiar, weird, bizarre, unusual, abnormal, unconventional, outlandish, offbeat, freakish, I’m odd.

A jingle of armor catches my attention as it joins the sound of keys. Odd. They never come here. The large door creaks, light flashing in and momentarily highlighting the scratches I had dug into that very door.

I am blinded for a moment by burning light with a poisonous golden glow. “Get up.” Someone barks and I flinch at the sound, ears crying in defiance at the loud sound scraping into me and rattling my mind. A lift a shaky hand to block away the boiling white light.

My action is all but pleasing as I am dragged off the ground. My unused limbs wail out in pain, heart pulsing with fear I can’t quite feel. I groan quietly as they drag me to the light of the doorway. I pull against their harsh hold wanting to fall back into my dark solitary silence. The light felt like death and I didn’t want to have to walk down that tunnel. That tunnel of unknowns, that tunnel that will lead me out of safety.

I couldn’t leave this suffocating prison of broken stones and unforgiving metals. No I wouldn’t. I was safe here, safe in the pain, safe in the cold crimson of my blood, safe in my corner. Hidden from the world, hidden from him.

I wanted to go back, why won’t they let me go back?

My mind is a whirlwind of panicked screams that burn me but I can’t feel it. It hurts and I can’t feel it. Why, why, why, why, why. It hurts, thinking hurts. I don’t understand, understand

Understand

Understand!

“Enough pulling you bastard!” That same voice bellows and again my ears bleed. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, but I’m numb, numb, numb, numb, numb. Helplessly numb. Helpless like my existence. Helpless like my mind. Helpless like me. I’m helpless, incapable, powerless, impotent, defenseless, unprotected, vulnerable, exposed, disquieting, wretched, contemptible, despicable, inadequate, so pathetically weak.

Weak, weak, weak, always weak. Never enough, never, never, never. I’ll never be enough despite all that I am, I am nothing. Unimportant, forgotten, pitifully weak. Odd isn’t it? Despite all my words, all my knowledge I am nothing. I can string together a thousand words into a medley of the Norns, but it is nothing.