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I’m trying to raise myself. To bring myself up the the occasion. To expectations or maybe just an attempt at meaning something. But everyone knows everything means nothing. Right?

I wake up and I’m in a world surrounded in mist. Like a smooth sheet of silk that rubs against the landscape in millions of interwoven connections. I feel trapped, yet free to slide through the white entrapments like a spider of the forest.

I understood the challenge, but that didn’t mean I was going to buy in to it. I hadn’t lost that much sanity. Others would think I had backed out. But wasn’t I already playing their game?

Saved in the grey box that sits in front of me. I try to escape this prison but the warden will never release his grip. Always there to save me when I begin to jump.

Whiskey. I received a bottle from my late grandfather once. It was called Blue Label. There isn’t really anything more behind that story. We weren’t close at all, though I know we really could have been. We were so similar.

A common place scene. A normal state of mind. With the sun out and a gentle breeze. How could the drudgery get worse. Emma sat up from the park bench and closed her mildly entertaining book with a unsurprising slap. She wasn’t really processing the words anyway.

The beach. Sand, waves. Blue. Yellow. Grey. I remember grey sand. Kind of like sludge or grime. It was like holding billions of tiny black rocks. An unfitting beach for a beautiful coast.

Bleach. This word will forever be stained to me. Stained by adolescent fancies. Too bad the bleach is too weak to ever get it out.

Without is the absence of with. With or without, something is there. Or is nothing always there, lingering like a large cavity of absence of space? Without this thought, can we survive suffocated by the absence of nothing?

Matching our walking rhythm, we continued down the narrow path. It was getting darker by the minute, the moon seeming to get weaker as the night got thicker. I couldn’t see her shoes any more. The night took us away.