Preventing Living
He felt the sun warming his face. He could tell it was going to be one of those unpleasantly hot days in the city; those days when clothes stick to you like bees on honey. A day full of that suffocating heat that could drown you with its oppressive strength.
But yet, this morning, it was still just warm. The sun had not made its way up into the sky from where it would later beat down on the thousands of faces below. He took another sip of his orange juice, savoring the flecks of pulp swishing through his mouth.
There were these moments of peace. He would never understand why he of all people ever deserved such moments. But yet they came, unrequested, to settle on him like a cool breeze in the heat of summer. It was in these moments that he did not feel the unsettling weight of his life; his freedom.
When he first got out, he thought, dreamed, that everything that had come before would melt away like a child’s forgotten ice cream cone that had fallen on the sidewalk. He had hoped to let go, to enjoy this freedom. But the lingering questions, the never-ending doubt, the persistent rage was all just right under the surface of his soul. It gnawed at him like a dog searching to find the last bits of flesh on an old bone. He could control it, but it would never relinquish its control over him, of this much he was sure. He doubted that even if, when, he got his answers that he would ever truly be able to shake this demon. It carried with it all of the lingering screams and anguish of his years inside. It was his persistent reminder of what had gone horribly wrong; what he could never alter.
Yes, now he lived free. But it was not living. Not really. He was beginning to think that kind of living was not for people like him; people who had been wronged beyond recognition.
But then came these moments of peace, when his past, his future, what he knew and what he didn’t, ceased to matter. These were the moments he wished he could harness and keep always within his grasp. But they flitted away, fickle as the summer breeze. He could never contain them, and inevitably, he would be reminded again of everything in his life that prevented his living.
He finished his glass of juice, turning to go back inside, to prepare for the day. The thoughts began their marathon around his head again. Yes, today would be no different.
~END~