The Light Went Out

The candle burnt out. I wonder exactly how. It rendered nothing to reflect of all that had passed, it seemed impossible to sift through the words that had been said. Remembering every expression, every glance, every time her hands seemed to move over one another in each uncomfortable moment. Over the years, I have seen all her different ways to look disgusted, I’m sure I can draw what the word spite means. I guess I could also replicate that of love, but this seems harder to picture now: as I said, the light went out.

Towards the end I couldn’t help but objectify it all. To label the collective moments with a twisted eye that seemed to convert beauty into beast. It’s like I fell out of the world. Looking from a distance the mystical lines that traced my loving years no longer seemed irrational and unexplainable, but just pointless, and therefore empty. Was life to be full of such deceptions? I was unveiled, so to speak, and now nothing was before me but the void I was moving towards.

One day you wake and your heart guides your every movement, your every word or even thought, yet of more interest is the following day where you awaken to harbour nothing. No sentiments, there is no value anymore. Hence the objectification, but how else does one gauge value? Man must ask, ‘what’s the point?’ If there was a God I’m sure he’d be telling me that I’m asking the wrong questions. Is the creator of suffering the questioning?

I guess I’m not all that coherent, but the problem still stands, why invest your golden years in love when it can be unplugged like your television. Well that was entertaining and passed some time, but what am I now that I wasn’t before, what difference does it make? Do I aspire to be the decrepit man with a million stories for every occasion, or the fat pensioner with some family photos in his empty wallet. I mean, aren’t they both broken in their own way?

The worst part of this story is that there is no ending. You probably won’t even decide it yourself. What a shame, what a waste of potential. That’s all I’ll leave this life thinking, what more it could have been.