The sadness

The inexplicable sadness is back, after weeks, maybe even months, of letting me live. I foolishly believed that maybe this time the wind took it away, far, far far away, maybe over to some other open window, where it invaded another girls life, eating her from the inside, leaving nothing but the desire of destruction under her fingertips. Maybe it did blow that way, but she was too smart, she found a way to trick it back outside, and it flew around like an orphan only to find a window and a dim light it recognized, and it came back, haunting me with its dreadful silence.

The tale of an alcoholic.

'I'm an alcoholic', he says, and I listen intently as I look into the mirror of my past. 'Do you get along with your father?' 'No' my lips whisper, but only inside my head. I could never say it out loud, to him, to myself, to anyone in the world. Because once words are out, the wind carries them across to places, and then they no longer belong to you, they belong to the world, and it has authority over them as a father might have authority over a child. He talks, and he notices my silence, and the anger rises in me as my thoughts lead to only one resolution. Put your beer glass down, I command, silently of course, put it down and go home to your children. How dare you? How dare you pity yourself as you drown into the forgetful state of your master, the drink inside your hands? Your children need you, your family needs you, and I would have needed you if it so happened that you were him, the father who forgot me as he raised his drink to his lips. Go home.