Catwalk Microcosm
I awake on the catwalk
I'm wearing my best suit.
I'll keep heading forward,
today will be a good day.
I dust off my clothes
and straighten my tie,
look behind me, up and down,
there is no one around to compete with.
The sky is a beautiful orange as always,
there is the slightest hint of citrus and spice
drifting through the air;
maybe someone else shares my ambition.
I start to make my first steps of the day,
the grated, black metal makes its familiar cling and ringing,
it's nice to hear you too.
I look down at my feet and the endless distance
between the catwalk's grates and whatever lies beneath it.
It occurs to me that at any moment the braces that hold the catwalk up could break
or I could decide to jump off the sides and plunge eternally into that great, bright vastness.
The thought is both tantalizing and terrifying,
that my whole life and existence is constantly at the mercy
of an unknown force and my own personal will.
Both appear so sickeningly easy to break.
My pace quickens as I walk along my path,
no bends, no corners,
just straight and flat as far as my eyes have keenness to see.
Sure, there are stairs,
I see them mockingly adjacent to my path but I don't bother taking them,
what's the point in making the effort to be however many feet above your current path
if you're walking in the same direction?
I have a briefcase that I've never looked into,
there's something important in it that I'm supposed to give to whomever I meet at the end.
I've been practicing since I can remember how I will present it to that person.
But who are they, what do I have to present?
What will they think of it?
What do we do once I've presented it?
My curiosity quickly loses steam and rots into apathy,
What does it matter?
How long have I been walking this path?
Is there even anyone at the end of it?
Is there even anything in my briefcase?
Is this all just a sick joke?
Telling someone they have something precious with them,
someone special to meet,
but you can't know what it is,
can't ever look at it,
can't ever know who you are going to meet.
What if there's nothing there?
What if the reason why there appears to be no competition
is because everyone else opened their briefcases long ago and found nothing in it
and jumped off, finally realizing the futility of their life's efforts?
Oh, this is a sick joke indeed.
I spin around,
hoping there is someone there,
the same someone who once told me my purpose in life
so I can spit in their face and show them the nothing I carry with me,
tell them I've figured out their little joke and I don't have the stupidity to take it anymore.
But there's no one there.
It's just me,
still,
always.
How I wish someone would have been there,
it would be so much easier to tell anyone that they are my captor
then to tell myself.
I shuffle off in disgust,
lousy no one,
lousy catwalk,
lousy sky.
In my fury I almost pass by another staircase,
but this time I stop.
Why don't I go up?
What's up there?
It appears to be the same as down here.
But then again it may only be because my perspective has conformed to thinking
that everything must be like where I am and is tricking me.
I decide to give it a chance,
I make the awkward, sideways shuffle to the base of the stairs,
this is definitely not something I'm used to.
I breath deeply and begin the ascent,
looking left and right as I do.
Nothing appears different yet,
maybe it will change,
it has to change.
Upon reaching the top of the stairs I take a moment to glance around,
everything appears the same but with a brush of blue at the top of all the orange.
What's so amazing about all this?
A new color?
That's all I get?
The catwalk goes both ways at the top of the stairs,
back and forth,
the only two directions.
I think what it must be like to go backwards
and wonder if anyone has ever done it.
It doesn't make sense to me,
nothing back there
and nothing ahead,
but at least you don't know what the nothing ahead is yet, right?
I start walking forward again,
I test the integrity of the metal grates and hand railings to see if they're different up here.
Still pretty solid,
just wobbly enough to put the fear of falling in your mind.
I walk until my energy starts to fade as it does regularly with time,
I have never learned a proper definition for the properties of time,
but I feel its effects on me and my patience very convincingly
and for that reason I do not doubt its power or existence.
I start to slow my pace and look back to check my progress,
there are no landmarks to give any indication but I know I must have traveled far
given the amount of energy I have lost.
I give in to the demands of my body and stop my progress,
I sit down with my legs crossed and lay my briefcase on the grates ahead of me for a pillow.
How did I get here?
I know my existence wasn't always like this,
there are memories of joy in my life but they seem like another life to me now.
I remember bright colors and laughter,
warmth, love, and family;
I remember feeling close to someone and wanting nothing more than their company,
that feeling is gone from me now.
All I'm left with are these metal grates,
guide railings and stairways,
a numbing sky and the hope for something better.
This is my life now,
this is what I'm left with.
NO!
I CAN'T ACCEPT IT!
I WON'T ACCEPT IT!
I stand up straight and look around.
SOMEONE!
ANYONE!
LET ME SCREAM AT YOU!
LET ME TEAR AT YOU!
LET ME FIGHT WITH YOU!
LET ME FEEL YOU!
ANSWER ME, GODDAMMIT! ANSWER ME!
But there's no one.
There never is.
I lean over the railing and look once again to the golden orange abyss below.
What if this is what I'm meant to do?
What if it's a test.
I step over the railing and look up at the new, blue tinge that lines my sky.
I'll never reach you, I confess.
I let go of the railing and feel myself fall.
Instinct makes me panic and I reach desperately for anything.
My left hand comes up empty but my right catches the edge of the catwalk.
I feel a searing pain as the entire weight of my body is placed on my shoulder,
the joints in my fingers strain to hold on to the small edge that is holding me.
In the top of my visual field I can see my briefcase laying on the grates,
as futile as its contents might be I want it with me now more than ever.
I try hopelessly to grab the catwalk with my left hand so I can pull myself up
but am not making any progress.
The fear that I will not be able to go back to the catwalk becomes real to me,
it's a horrible feeling but I can't help but feel relieved,
maybe this is the way it's supposed to be.
I look up at my fingers
and release them one by one,
sometimes there's no turning back.
I take a deep breath as I let the last one go,
the catwalk accelerates away from me
and I can feel the cool wind rush by me as I fall.
The color of the sky changes to a dark blue
and I feel tired and cold,
there are spots of white all around,
maybe this is the way it's supposed to be.
I give in to the needs of my body
and drift drunkenly to sleep.
I don't know where I'm going
and maybe this is the way it's supposed to be.
