Journey to the Center of ME

I lay on the ground, face down, feeling the cold Earth against my sunken cheek. The flesh was beginning to fall from my bones, no longer necessary in my own forthcoming death.

Taking a deep breath, I try to capture something besides the scent of dirt--no, I must go farther down...about six feet.

A faint hint of what I once was, of what I was going to become.

She's down there, dormant, motionless. Paralyzed.

The smell makes me dizzy with memories; memories of when I wasn't so afraid to express. Memories of when every idea in my head fell out onto paper so that I would never forget.

A tear falls from my eye...regret for the lost thoughts, the lost memories, the lost "Me".

Slowly, I take a finger and begin to burrow a small hole in the ground. A short hiss of air emits from the hole as if under pressure, and I breathe it in, hoping.

It was the scent of life.

I know that smell anywhere. She was still alive. I imagined her eyes wide open, patiently awaiting my return. I sat up, and began to dig with both hands, frantic. I wasn't sure how much time I had left, but I'd be damned if I spent another moment slowly deteriorating in this shell. I needed her, I needed her to fill me out, to give me color, to make me feel...whole.

As I dig deeper and deeper, it comes back to me--the ideas, the stories, the daydreams, the hopes. I am so close, so close. And even though the ground seems even harder to move, I Will keep Going. There's dirt in my hair, my nails, my mouth, between my toes. I'm beginning to feel sluggish, tired from the effort. But NOTHING will stop me. NOBODY will stop me.

Just a little bit farther. I can feel her getting closer to my hands. Just a little bit deeper, and she can breathe again...

~Pusher. Of. Pens.~