Journey from Origin

Step, step, step. To the Shell I crept.

I walked down a neighborhood that familiarized itself with my footprint. A closed door opened another. One that would lead to a gas station, as it had many times. My feet were playing a game of hide and seek with rocks that night, and they kept giving up. I left my shoes at home — no, that place. I’ll leave them at their origin.

Step, step, step. A jarring manse I left.

It’s a house where sleep only grows in possibility in the early hours of morning, only for the loudness to break it once more. A house that only knows silence from olden media. A house where headphones are the only comfort, and sometimes that isn't enough. It’s a place called home by force, not by request.

Step, step, step.

A blind car leapt.

No light, no warning. Only the rising pitch of its engine, and the color of red growing more visible as it gets closer. I was in shock, my body could not process my next action in time. My brain screamed at a body looking directly at the eyes of Medusa. The car was a leap away from me. Before I became one with the concrete, adrenaline had thrown my body to the grass, as I heard the car crunch on something, and the pitch finally declined. I pushed myself from the ground, and stood up. I dropped my headphones in the commotion. I saw them in the street — contorted. I picked them up. I tried to cry, but crying had been taboo for a long time now. Those headphones had been my limbo from the madness, and now madness invades my peace once more. I continued walking, but the adrenaline turned my walk into a dash. Unfortunately the adrenaline made me overlook one thing. The crunch was not the headphones,

but the sound of the bones in my foot.

Step, Step Step. I made it to the gas station

My legs came to a cease, as if they had found their resting place. The blood had reached past the decayed socks I was wearing — right above the ankle. I had yet to feel the pain. I went under the synthetic glow of the gas station lights, and sat on the curb with my broken headphones. It felt like everything around me became broken. They beg for restoration, but they’re too far gone to request it. I took a breath — a real one — for the first time in months. Oh, to feel again. A wish finally granted. The thick air of the southern summer slugged through my quivering fingers. My legs seized with pain. Tears torrent my eyelids before I could concede that I was breaking down from everything. Suddenly, my torso surrendered to the sidewalk. My head tilted to look at the gas station door, and my already-blurry eyes closed — not knowing if this could be the last time they could ever open. As I fell into unconsciousness I finally understood that if I continued to live in this house of chaos, I’d become a sacrifice to a way of living I never asked for. The final thought I could muster was a question. My brain took as many steps as it could to ask…

Step, step, step.

But what is the next step?