Thursday, November 21, 2013

Wanderer's Journal #26

       The concept of returning haunts me like an old friend. It always whispers into my ears the ideals that I once held, the ones that seemed possible once upon a time. But to my story I will return, as it is all I can return to.
       The woman who stood before me struck me as unfamiliar, but she bore the characteristics that I often attributed to Marie-Lynn. I was nearly fooled by the lookalike, or so I thought. I found myself pondering how much time had actually passed as I worked on my world, thinking of her. Silence stole my breath away, letting nothing stand between us. Striking auburn hair burned down from her head. It parted slightly to the left of the middle. Mature looking bangs hung over her eyes, a style I had never seen Marie-Lynn possess. But her hazel eyes were illuminated by familiarity and warmth.
       “Marie-Lynn? Is that you?” My drowsiness warped reality. The waking-world was abnormally clear, and yet harder to understand. Upon her face I could see the freckles that slowly disappeared as we grew older, banished for their childish look.
       “You can't recognize me after all this time? I'm surprised. I figured you had pictures of me all over your walls.” Marie-Lynn revealed herself to my tired and confused mind. Her tone was striking and convicting. I disregarded it with an exhausted shrug.
       “How have you been? We've been apart for so long...” I was quiet and spoke with a slow drawl, waiting for the excitement to spur forth a well of energy. Time had been a small factor in my life. I simply lived as I needed to. Sleep overcame me whenever it needed to. Hunger and thirst drove me to seek sustenance, but it seemed that time had faded into nothingness. No passing was experienced. It was always the same. But time caught up to me through her. It wrapped itself around us and bound us to the mortal realm, sealing me to my demise.
       “Dissatisfied mostly. Life feels short now. It scares me. But I didn't come here to talk about that, Mr. Wanderer.” The book passed by my face as if it was in a rush to return to me. I took it as unhappiness with the content. The message was delivered to an discontented receiver. “I was surprised to find your name stapled onto the spine of a book, yet alone the cover. It intrigued me, so I bought it and read it. But I found that you had simply added a little bit to our story. You gave us a happy ending.”
       “If you're unhappy with it, I can change it. I can make it end with nothing but an overwhelming loneliness that will drive the wanderer to the point of extinction, but my people may not enjoy it.” She had been absent for so long that she was unaware of the beings that I had created in my haste to conceal my absolute loneliness and wish to bring her back into my life. This much was apparent by the confusion that came across her face as I spoke about my people, but I did not bother to explain myself before being asked to.
       “Your people? What has happened to you, Jesse? You have always been strange, but this is beyond anything before.” Marie-Lynn's eyes peered past me, into the cluttered mess that had become my life. She observed and judged my state of being, and soon she came to face the dreadful truth. I saw it in her eyes, but she refused to be the first to say it.
       “You've been gone for so long. My world was crumbling. The place that had once been my island had been opened up to human contact. You did not begin that, but you were the best of it. After you left, I didn't know what to do. No amount of trees, critters, music, or anything, could erase the emptiness that you had left behind. All the destruction that you had done could not be repaired by a simple thought of change. I was bound to it, lost to it, and so I created people of my own to try and replace you. Now that you stand before me, I realize just how much I failed.” Most of what I had wished to say had been said, the words coming out like molten rock from a volcanic eruption, save for their tenderness. I do not know what occurred in her mind at that very moment, whether she had thought it sweet, or otherwise. There was no embrace between us, but there was something.
       “Why didn't you try contacting me? Surely with all your free time, you could have gotten a hold of me.” It was at that moment that I began to wonder what she had been doing during those countless days that we had not spoken. Her words suggested that she had forgotten my naivety of the ways of the waking-world. I rejected it with my whole being, and so I became ignorant of an escape of my suffering.
       “But I did, and it worked, although I had not written it to talk to you. I've missed you so desperately, and I don't believe you've felt the same way. Every night when I close my eyes, I find myself waiting years for you to return to me. Why did you keep your distance? Why did you vanish as you did?” My words ignited a passionate response in Marie-Lynn, so much so that it appeared as if her hair quite literally was engulfed in flames.
       “Oh how I hoped you would ask me that. Jesse, you are so lost in your world, your fictional world, that you forgot reality. Neither of us can remain in the deception of our minds forever, and when I awoke that morning, I felt the difference. I had been sucked into the dream-state, just as you have been, but I chose to fight it, in fear of losing myself in the lies that I would create myself. You don't even know who I am! You've lost me in your own imagination!” Marie-Lynn tossed my novel, the story about she and I, across the room. It appeared unharmed, but the message was like a rushing river that I had accidentally fallen into. It carried me away, cutting me on its rocks, the hidden blades beneath the surface, and kept me from the safety of shore. I lost myself among the waters that seemed to lead nowhere.
       I did not return to my dream-world after that heart-wrenching event. I had purposely exiled myself into reality, a place where my wandering might have found me some actual remedies to my suffering. Only, I could not summon the courage to talk to Marie-Lynn afterwards.

-Zero

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