The Killing of an Optimist

I wrote this piece sometime in February of 2008. I am posting it up now for two reasons. Firstly, because until this day it remains among my prized pieces as it holds what I consider to be one of the best lines of imagery in my writing thus far. Secondly, this piece is now resurfacing, as many of my other pieces previously had, due to the fact that I can once again identify with the topic I had written about back then.

The Killing of an Optimist

I feel like a part of me is dying here
And it hurts more than you can possibly imagine
Like shards of glass secreting from the pores of my bare skin
I want to shout
but I have no voice
I want to cry
but there is no one to hear it
My powers have faded and I can no longer break out of this cage
With every passing moment my heart sinks lower and lower
It's a feeling so sickeningly painful
that I feel myself deteriorating from the inside out
and as I cling on to the very last strand of hope,
constantly thinning as we speak,
I realize two very important things:
that any and all sorts of attempts are useless
and that instead of standing by,
allowing the infliction caused by others to devour me,
I find that infliction of self offers an oddly comforting sanctuary that I can hide in
'til there is no more