Thursday, October 17, 2013

I'm afraid...

...that something is bothering Stud...

Imagine hanging on to a cliff.
Imagine that you have only one arm holding yourself up.
You feel your arm stretching and being stressed by your weight.
You glance down at the seemingly bottomless void beneath you.
You sense the abyss calling to you, telling you to fade away into it.
You shouldn't die tired after all.
You can taste the sweat upon your reddened face, cooling you as the panic of your certain death finally dawns on you.
You know that there is no point in trying, you know how it will end.
You know that you cannot possibly last any longer hanging.
You can hear your fingers throb with pain as they cannot hold you.
You are hopeless, a soon to be memory of existence, nothing you do will matter or make any difference.
You know your fate is inevitable.
You come to peace with it.
You realize you were a fool for trying to hang on, that it was an impulse; a reaction.
You can let go now, there is no sense of wasting effort in attempting to change what will soon happen to you.
You have no control.
You relax and let go.
You are ended.

Or.

You find the reason why.
You can spit at the ground, pull yourself up, and tell inevitability to go fuck itself.
You didn't grab the edge to slow your fall.
You grabbed the edge because if you die, goddamn it, you're gonna die standing up.
You go over that cliff, it's because you fucking jumped.
You decide when it happens and on that day; the ground better get out of your way.
Imagine if you found a reason to hold on.
Imagine if that one reason was more important that anything else.

6 comments:

Zebsmom said...

The second one is much more hopeful than the first, but he really capture the emotion in both. Not sure if I would be worried or not....but I would have a talk with him for sure. Good luck, and it's good to see you back!

Pissed Off said...

I will add him to my prayers

Pissed Off said...

I just remembered my son used to write really dark poetry in HS that meant absolutely nothing. Ask him about what he wrote. I did. My quiet son told me it was nothing and it was nothing.

Short Story Long said...

An assignment? It could be nothing or it might be something. Hard not to over-dramatize, hard to dismiss. Delicate balancing act, the mom thing.

I'd probably say something like, "
Saw your poem. Heady stuff. What was the motivation?"

Listen...with your eyes and ears, to everything said and not said.

Sorta Southern Single Mom said...

Sending prayers just in case!

Jim said...

Hi Lisa.
I would definitely tell him that you have read these and share with him why you may be a bit fearful....being his mother and all.
Sounds to me that he is going through an existentialist (who am I, why am I, where did I come from and where am I going) period. Some people do. I did and it was a shaky time for me till I figured it all out. Offer him your support and suggest to him he is not alone with these thoughts....most people go through this at some time in their lives. And go from there...
On the other hand, he may be just exploring things that never occurred to him before. Trust your instincts Lisa.....you have good ones.