Trauma

Revised October 11th, 2014

Of all the things you have seen tonight, this is by far the worst.

Tonight, since your awakening, you have died many times. It kills to learn how the whole world remembers you – it kills to know you have already existed, and your identity is desperately out of reach for everyone. So close, so far is your truth.

If you still had it, your breath would be broken as you fly to the other side of the town. The voice echoing so wrong in the telephone did not belong to the Cabanela you have known; you want to find out. That is your struggle, through the net of wires.

The more you learn, however, the more you realise you are running the wrong way – your past escapes and all certainties crumble, lost in the maze of the skyscrapers, as if they were made of dry sand.

In fact, now that you have reached the truth, there is no point in running anymore. There is the answer you yearned for, the last nail in the coffin. There you are.

A wild light beyond the glasses, mad gestures, words – what is that thing you are holding, are those your hands? What gun is shielding that inhuman grin?

It is your own face, your self, a parody of the precious life you have lost tonight. If this is not cruelty, it must be fate – such a careless, terrible fate, holding tight the lives of many.

As far as you are concerned, if this is your life, then you must be a terrible mirror of yourself.

This is the moment when he night splits in two halves, and the answer lies farther away, too far beyond the dawn. Even the glowing red of the Ghost World no longer feel like death; your true death is standing, shouting, talking in front of you, and you would stop time forever rather than seeing that man.

But this is the night in which nothing looks the way it did before – it has deceived you and then cancelled the illusions, right in front of your powerless eyes.

Your time is gone, and you are nothing.