Skeletal Solace

You see it in dreams where your imagination is the most despairing and cruel—lounging in your deepest worries and regrets. A stranger to the rest of the world, you're alone with it every night.

You ask, "What are you doing?"

It doesn't answer.

In the dark, you lay in bed with the covers between your legs as if you were preparing to climb it. You can't get to a comfortable spot on the bed. No matter. The creature in your mind is keeping you awake...

The next day comes...

You're walking your small dog on your front yawn. Rural area, not much happening. You walk to a different corner of the house, where there's a heavy presence of trees and grass. Squirrels scurry away, as you approach a fig tree. Your dog is on a leash, but doesn't mind where you're going, just as long as she's free to take a whiz on a patch of comfy grass.

Your mind is still consumed by the creature from last night. Red eyes. Skeletal-looking... well, bearing only bones—no skin, really. Cloaked in literally darkness—darkness draped over it like clothing.

This creature has stolen into your dreams for quite a while now... Months... perhaps a year...? No matter. You already lost count of the days.

You round the corner of the house, and you can't help but check your face in your front window—This is the umpteenth time that you shed a tear today—and suddenly... you see it.

The reflection in the window captures it. The creature. Cloaked and hooded in black. The body a tired and withered array of bones.

The creature pulls you aside. Your dog—too little and heart-stopped to rush to your side in defense—sits on the grass, with leash dropped dead on the ground.

It tells you: "Remember me?"

You shake your head, hoping to deny it.

But the creature knows better. "You lie," it tells you. "In your heart and mind, you can't stand how life has treated you. And I shall tell you..."

Before you can protest this, the creature begins its case... and you have no choice but to cling to each word...

Poem

My bones are worn

Worn from scorn

Worn from being alone

Worn from a loan

Of wanting happiness,

Wanting love.

But now,

my bones are hard

my heart rock shards

I walk the yard,

an unbeknownst bard,

still wanting happiness,

wanting love.

And now,

my bones are me,

the way they need be,

for I tire,

living on fire.

No happiness.

No love.

What of solace then?

Love is out there...

it's somewhere...

What of solace then?

These bones are my robe.

Despair yanks my earlobe.

WHAT OF SOLACE THEN?

The bones. The bones.

See them? Here! Here!

Callused from loans

loans from love dear.

I borrow to please,

I borrow to live.

Never enough,

no more blood to give.

I'm tired, I'm weak.

My bones will streak,

until solace finds me,

or love binds me

to please more and more

and love myself less

And bleed more and more--

Oh God, the mess!

I ask again:

What of solace then?

The bones I carry,

the bones that guard me.

Callused, weary,

of the lone bard, me.

When the creature concludes, you are angry.

You protest: "But that was the old me! I'm better now! I've moved on!"

The creature shakes its head, saying, "I beg to differ. You're still the least favorite of your mother's three children. In fact, your two siblings live more accomplished lives than you do. One is married to a lover... one is married to their work... But what about you? You live in the shadows... with me. "

"I manifest your every mistake, your every regret... Every day, you grow frustrated... Every day, you'll feel me eat away at your sanity... Every day with this..."

The sky darkens above you.

"When will you give into your past?" the creature asks you. "When will you admit that there's a problem?"

"I'm okay," you insist. "My family tells me so."

"Your family tells you so," the creature mocks you. "But what about you? I know you more than your own mother does! I know of your envy for your married sibling's life! I know of your jealousy of that younger sibling of yours that your mother drools over for having both a job and a life! Your siblings have it made but you!"

"Why does it matter to you?" you ask.

"Because I am your past," it tells you. "You had a love, but that person was a scumbag. You had a job, but it spat in your face. Don't you see? Admit there's a problem, or you'll forever be cursed with me!"

"What do you expect me to do?" you ask. Frustrated, you grit your teeth, and more tears pour down your face.

"You tell people that you're still hurting."

"I've tried. They either won't listen, or they'll dismiss me as 'overreacting.'"

"Then keeping telling them until you're dead that there's a problem. Don't let them sweep this under the rug."

"I've tried. And I'm tired of it."

The creature sighs and says, "Yeah. You're tired alright. Just like these bones are. But I tell you: You'll only find solace in truth. There cannot be solace without telling this story."

You say nothing more, as the creature disappears into the descending nightfall, in the dark trees above.

Then, the wind starts to blow into your direction, and your bones can't bear this change. You succumb to the ache, and you fall helplessly to the cold ground. Your dog is still petrified—too afraid—to come near you.

Moral of the Story

Don't be afraid to tell your family what makes you sad. A real family knows how to console one another, and most importantly—how to love you unconditionally.