He was walking in blindness. He was a man walking purposely towards nothing. There was no air in his lungs, no blood pumping through his heart, no strength in his bones. There was no vision in his eyes anymore. His stomach was unfolding inside him, pushing up through his throat, suffocating him, suffocating his very being, his very existence. The immediate surroundings blurred both in sound and form, a distant buzz of noise and movement, staring at him, but not daring to touch, to interfere. This man was going somewhere, but no one knew where, least of all him. To a man who had always had a vision, any sort of vision, this was a terrifying realization, a horrible feeling dawning upon him and riding him as his worst mare. He could feel the panic clawing its way out from deep inside his chest, leaving strips of ripped flesh, soul and heart in its trail. The ice cold water of panic and hysteria was streaming into his veins and he could feel their cold fingers clutching him, dragging him down. But he walked on, because that was all he could do.
Then he screamed. He screamed without air, he screamed with all his might, gathering the last of his strength that had long since left his body. Sickness spread throughout him and he felt white, he felt weak. All he had ever been was no more.
His pupils dilated and rage took him. Pure rage and hatred fuelled on love, love for what he had lost, and love for the man he once was, whom he knew was now lost forever. And he ran.
Why do we sacrifice the beautiful ones?
Sitting in the window, smoke in hand, peace engulfed him. This was not the peace he was looking for, the one he sought by coming here, and had always found, except for today. From now on that peace was lost forever, never to be found again, not for this man. He was broken and he knew it. Nothing would never be the same, he knew that also. No, the peace surrounding him now terrified him to his very core. This peace pressed the once so refreshing air down his throat, clogging his lungs. The sort of peace now attacking his body and soul so fiercely from every particle of air, brick and smell was the kind that could effortlessly help him off this windowsill, and send him flying head first into the thundering and welcoming asphalt below.
He had two choices; either he could embrace the tempting thundering faith calling his name so sweetly from somewhere far below, or, he could accept this new reality, or at least learn how to deal with it.
The window slammed shut, felt its locks twist and for the last time mirrored the well known reflection of a man that used to be someone. He made a choice and dealt with it, though, never as anything more than a mere shadow of his former self.