Pisaries Creator

That would be very simple to answer, the worst thing that could happen to me already did happen. It happened a long time ago although to compound the worst thing would be for something similar happening again. It would be the most terrible, raw, and emotional situation I would ever face as an adult. I don’t know if I would be able to survive again. It would be similar to having something ripped from my body and never being able to stop it. It would be someone cutting me open while alive but without drugs. It would be someone I couldn’t see, the mysterious and sinister presence, removing the organ that helped me live all these years. It would be leaving me there to die, that would be the worst thing that could happen. It would mean evil barged in and knocked the door down after all these years.

It would be the countless things I couldn’t get out of my head that would make it worse. It would be a revolving door or a continuous loop of scary images. The images that make me not want to close my eyes because I see them clearer when it is dark in my room. The outlines of those far away. I can’t see their eyes, but I can see the tops of their heads. They are moving around, close to each other in great synchronicity, almost like dancing. They are having fun from my view above, but I know deep down that is no celebration. They are huddled now, concentrating fully on the problem before them, and wondering what the next step should be.

The problem remains before them and not knowing the outcome is as dangerous as taking action. They come to me from time to time, telling me they haven’t forgotten, and still they aren’t willing to tell me anything more. I suppose that is the failure among us. Their inability to move beyond the line is also my failure. They can’t stop themselves from repeating the same tragedy over and over. They let themselves go so far and turn back. This has to be a precursor to our stunted ending. Sometimes questions aren’t ever meant to be answered.