I Remember.

I remember what it felt like, to be locked in my dark desolate depravity. To be isolated and all alone, to wonder what would happen next. There lies a world of difference between living a life on a regular schedule of reinforcement and that of an irregular one. As mundane as it is, it’s something that occurs almost exactly the same every time, such that one can be lulled into a  false sense of security and tranquility. There are no surprises or unexpected happenings; things aren’t wont to spin out of control. In most cases, this monotony is something to be abhorred, something to flee from, because no one can stand the dullness. That was so for me.

I remember how, whilst there in my prison, I was all locked away and exposed, I was always pining for something, anything; even the most minuscule amount of attention was worth more so much more than the nothingness of the void in its absence. Of course, this was a result of once being on such predefined schedule of reinforcement, only for it to be abruptly taken away and shifted to one of irregular and inconsistent approaches. At first, it wasn’t so much the fact that the “what” in all of this was changing; no, for the most part that remained the same. But the “when”… And oh, the “when” of the matter hit me like a ton of bricks, out of left field, something I never quite saw coming. When I had finally come to the realization of the situation, it was too late; not only had the “when” fallen drastically to unprecedented low levels, but my eyes were opened up to see that the “who,” the “what,” the “when,” the “where,” and the “why” had all become shades of their former selves, and this wisp of the past was no longer in my present.

I remember the pain and shock of accepting that the then was not the current now. The things that I once had, the feelings that were once there, they only existed in my memory, forever to be left in a state of stasis there, unable to be brought to materialization. As a result of seeing how bad this reality was, I retreated into fantasy, into a dreamscape of which I was free to build up the good and strip away the bad that haunted me in real life. This was my realm, and no one could take that away from me. I’m hoping that I knew at some point before undertaking such a mad endeavor that this path would only lead to insanity; of course in hindsight this is a perfect 20/20, but perhaps the feeling of warmth from this make-believe creation far surpassed the chill I felt lingering in the horrors of every-day life. It’s safe to say, I eventually abandoned this hopeless path, even if I don’t quite recollect which door gave me my freedom from this prison.

I remember all that was then, and where I am now, and how I desire to never return to such a point in my life. The dependence of such a schedule and the feelings I had, only to be overwhelmed when an entire new set of feelings replaced what was once there. There was some good, of that I’m sure, but I question if the good that once was was worth the cost of the bad that followed. I remember, but yet also serve this note of warning to continue remembering, lest I forget, and venture down such a dark winding road ever again.

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