Pool of Mercury in Eye of a Hurricane

What to do in life? What to do besides sit in this mass collective chaos and scream into the abyss that reflects only the darkness within me? The storm dissipates if only to rear itself again in the onslaught of destruction that I’ve seen time and time again. However, in this storm, I see my life falling apart yet again and I am helpless to fix it. I know that my cursing the gods in heaven will pacify none and will only serve to rid me of my voice when I should need it most. How am I to progress forward anymore when hope has served itself only as a mirage during this most torrential time?
I wish to blame hope. I wish to blame the gleaming gilded figure for this trouble I am now in. I thought maybe I could use that Northern Star to guide me through these times only to find that evermore will this be out of my own reach.
Another time lost. Another person, lost.
I find another hideout underground as I use to wait for the storm to pass me by again. Deep into this hole, I go to escape the high-pitched whistling of the wind that rings deep into my own psyche. It calls about the mistakes, the sights unseen, the feelings unfelt. How could I have performed these most horrible tasks…? How could I not have seen the anguish before in the words spoken, in the actions not taken, in the motions not noted? I lament my own inabilities in hopes to satiate this storm, feeling the tears scroll down my face and into the parched earth. Who needs my tears, my sorrow more? Was it the earth that begged me feed it my pain? Was it the howling wind that demanded my own pain to sate it, to quell it? How could I have misconstrued again what the storm would do? Again, I delight in a pool of self-pity like a pig in mud. For am I no better than that sow? Do I find my comfort in the muck and filth? Is this crusted nature how my words seem to others that hear them? Caked and baked with the dirt, my words seem to me solace and an unheard cry, both pain and reprieve, now an all-too-familiar amalgam of emotions that I can’t think to unravel. I feel that this desert has sandblasted my skin raw and that the wounds that had just healed are now torn open again. Here, take my blood if that is what you need. For I see not a happy ending for this one life.
I have read the stories and heard even the modern rhymes of those with happy endings. Throughout my travels I have wondered where was it hiding? Now, I’m not sure it exists at all.
Perhaps I am cruel, vicious, mean, spiteful, arrogant, sarcastic, caustic, biting.... Perhaps I am the pool of mercury that drives others mad. Through glossy silver reflections, I show others what they most fear: themselves. Every flaw, pockmark, stain on their shirt.
Or perhaps I place my flaws on them…
Deadly mercury, a drop so small. Thinking to scare everyone all along. Thought so hard but did not see, that indeed the truly fatal one is me.
God, I feel so heavy. So tired. Miles to go before I sleep.... Can’t I just stay down in this hole? Can’t I just… I don’t know if I can continue on. I might search for Death to see if maybe I could get moved up the list. I get that I keep fending Him off by saying I still have things I need to do, to not take me just yet, but I am so exhausted. Maybe I’ll go ahead and sign on the dotted line. Despair, hopelessness.... I can only take on so much weight before my knees buckle and I fall to the ground. And I am indeed alone in carrying this. I can’t continue to demand others carry it for me. My selfishness knows no bounds. Am I a burden, I wonder? Do I cause more pain than joy?
Perhaps it is better that I’m in this desert alone.