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A Road Less Taken
A road less taken.
I'll never forget that night, and I'll never remember it. For that night and the following days, I felt like a wanderer on an endless stretch of a dark, deserted road where only vague outlines of old, busted-up cars appear as they whiz by at a dizzying pace. I remember only short insignificant pieces of the night; all colors, events, and time blended together like flaming bursts of magnificent Roman candles that set the night sky ablaze with brilliant purples, reds and oranges. People, thousnads of them, all going about thier own journeys in a way they would only understand.
I burst into the room, crashing, tumbling, and twisting onto the bed, longing to feel at ease. The ride home had been too much of a race. I took a deep breath and held it in as I thought about how lonely I felt on that cold night. Man, I wanted to jump right out that window to do something, anything. I had to get out, but at the same time was compelled to sit down and make friends with the floor. I felt alive and confined by life. Then, like a bolt of burning lightning, something struck me, sending me reeling like a torn ragdoll. In a daze, I picked myself off the floor only to fall back to the bed again, as I made another attempt at sleep, the lights flash behind the flesh curtains covering my sight. Suddenly, something took ahold of my consciousness, I felt like the static buzz on a speaker before a bass note is struck, the tension building ever so quickly. My eyes raced around the room trying to find an explination for my situation, and I began to hear my heart bang in my chest, loudly thumping, booming, booming, constanly booming. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen soon.
The room began to spin like a top round and around, dizzyingly spinning and falling and tumbling and twisting. This was too much for anyone to handle, this would make Carles Manson cringe. I began to cry, not knowing what was happening. My body tightened and twisted, itself trying to escape the unrelentless feverish cold sweats. Like an old can of Coca-Cola sitting in a freezer, I shivered and shook and suddenly exploded in one moment of horrible ecstasy. Eventhough I was in fears grip, it was pure and I wanted more. Someone came in and tried to help me to my feet as i kept falling down, getting up, and falling down, like a boxer on the ropes, certain to lose but fighting valiantly for simple pride and one more ride.
That night, my parents after they had found me, brought me to the emergency room where the doctors predicted I would be all right soon enough. Thank God. Depression, panic disorder, whatever, that was the best thing that ever happened to me. Yeah it sounds strange, but that night was like an air raid siren in the dead of night. I was alive, and I didn't even know it until I was almost dead.
~Trevor Bourque
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Feb 03, 04
