Lost

Tommy Paley
Jul 27, 2017 · 3 min read

by Tommy Paley

Photo by N. on Unsplash

Lost.

I lost. I’ve lost. I’m lost.

Again.

Teetering on the edge of victory, of success, of sweet relief from avoiding failure, I slipped.

Off the fine line between good and bad that I transversed, I fell.

Into a hole like an abyss.

Down, down, down into this deep, deep, deep dark hole.

A special place somewhere in my head.

I’ve been here before.

Many times.

I know it all too well.

Hate it.

So much.

Alone.

The only resident.

Lots of time to think.

Safe, yet dangerously alone with my thoughts.

Full of despair and regret and unfulfilled wishes.

Wanting, aching to go back in time and change things, but I can’t.

Sigh.

Aargh!

Damn it!

I turn and face a faceless, emotionless courtroom.

I’m on trial.

In the role of the judge, jury and executioner?

Me.

My best friend at times, and now, my own worst enemy.

Begging for leniency, I throw the book at myself.

Again and again and again.

Like all of those other times.

Same frustrating actions yielding the same infuriating results.

Madness.

Never learning my lessons, history repeating itself.

Deja-freaking-vu.

I just want to cry, scream, break something.

But I don’t.

Someone flipped my off switch, unplugged me, removed my batteries.

The walls are close.

No room to move even if I could.

Trapped.

Inside my body, inside my head, inside my skin.

A prison of my own making.

Depressingly irrational thoughts sprout up like weeds.

Soon they are everywhere.

Pretty but toxic.

Lovely aroma but covered with prickles or thorns just ready to inflict even more pain.

Growing, flourishing, choking out the once-thriving healthy plants in the garden of my brain.

As I stand here, motionless.

Surrounded.

A maze with no exit or entrance.

No idea how I got in and no idea how I can ever leave.

Body sapped of all energy, synapses not firing, a tinman badly in need of oil.

Slumped against the walls for support.

Stunned.

A frown on my face.

A look of disbelief.

A glimmer of hope in my eyes that maybe it is all a dream knowing full well that it isn’t.

This is shit and it just got real.

Ahh, the internal barrage.

“You’re not good enough!”

“You’re not good at anything!”

“You’re no good!”

Questions rebound off the walls at high-speed, rapidly assaulting me.

“Why do you try?”

“Why don’t you just quit?”

“Why are you even here?”

The answers, once on the tip of my tongue, have slipped into the back of my brain.

Searching for the flashlight in the blackout blindfolded.

Aching for some perspective not just for perspective’s sake.

Wanting to pick myself up and dust myself off.

Looking for a helping hand.

Trying to find the silver lining, to grasp the lifeline, to turn that frown upside down.

To no avail.

There is no saving me; not now, not here.

As I’m lost.

Lost.

I lost, I’m lost, I’ve lost.

Again.

Literally Literary

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Tommy Paley

Written by

I write creative non-fiction, humorous and random short stories, unique and tasty recipes and fiction involving odd and funny relationships. I also love cheese.

Literally Literary

We've Got a Story for You

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