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"Forbidden."
That word. That reproachful word that signifies the halt of one's dreams and hopes. Forbidden was synonymous with hopeless and failure and death.
Forbidden meant the end of what you could have had - the end of a dream before it even had the chance to be.
"Forsaken."
There was another word I hated. Forsaken - robbed of your wings, that's what the word meant.
Robbed of your freedom, your future, your life. Robbed and left to suffer and to wonder why you were left with such a miserable fate.
To be forsaken meant that you were of no more use, that whoever held you in their affections now held nothing but remorse for you. Forsaken, as forbidden, was a word that haunted my soul, a word that ate away at my sanity with every breath that whispered its cursed name.
"Suffering."
And that word? That word used only to describe the most horrible of situations, that word which most people avoided, both in fear and in hatred.
Did "suffering" suffer pain? Did that word ever feel as lost as the people it was used to describe? Or are words as unfeeling as the stones beneath my feet?
Did "forbidden" feel caged? "Forsaken", hopeless and cold?
Did any of that matter anymore, as I stood there alone, waiting to fall?
Here I stood at the edge of this cliff; below, the rocks and ocean water beckoned. Before, the wind rushed against me, as though trying to push me away from the edge.
Behind, the world I ran from. The world that pushed me to this rocky cliff, where I tested nature one last time.
I stood, leaning into the wind, waiting for only one more minute as I laid my life in the hands of fate. Should I fall, I would not even scream in defiance.
Should the wind continue or grow against me, I would turn back and face again my troubles, however much they seemed to grow.
"Suffering."
Was suffering really optional? Could you choose to let pain overwhelm you?
"Forsaken."
Was being forsaken the end? Did being stripped of your wings mean that you must surely die?
"Forbidden."
Was a forbidden thing truly out of reach? Did it disappear, like the wind, when it was to never be known again?
I would never know.
As I fell to the ocean, I looked to the sky and murmured one word.
My favorite word.
My dying word.
"Freedom..."
 Sister Grievance · Tue Jun 24, 2008 @ 04:45am · 0 Comments |
