The Bitter Taste of Vinegar

Tangled branches away in the night breeze
Dripping blood like strawberry jam
How can they be watching me?
But they are, I know it
Despair like the bitter taste of vinegar
What are they waiting for?
What is the meaning of their melancholic song?

Yesterday was so cold. So cold that I dreaded taking out the recyclables just a little bit more than usual. It's that nasty time of year when everything just looks dirty, from the dwindling patches of muddy gray snow to the ratty yellow grass poking up from beneath it. And it's cold. Way colder than it needs to be. I dragged the glass and plastic filled bag down the driveway, the freezing wind trying it's hardest to rip the scarf right off my neck. I have nothing on my mind but the simple wish to be indoors again as quickly as possible.

And then, everything is quiet.

And there He is.

Somehow without even laying eyes on the spindly form only a few yards away, I just knew He was there. It was like those few moments after you wake up from a nightmare, when all you can lie underneath your blankets, afraid that the slightest movement will make whatever was chasing you in your dreams follow you into reality. Only, of course, this monster already had. He stood motionless and soundless, His long black arms held in His familiar and welcoming manner.

One thing that particularly struck me during this incident was the overall "wrongness" that seemed to pervade everything about his presence. Here is something that shouldn't exist, a myth or a fairytale. It can't possible be real. it certainly wouldn't be standing in front of me right now. And even if it is, I really shouldn't just stand around and stare. And believe me, I wanted to run away more than I think I've ever wanted anything before in my life. But it didn't happen.

Suddenly, in one heart-stopping moment, the distance between us began to decrease. Even if I wasn't uselessly terrified and even if I was able to force some sound from by suddenly dry throat, I knew that there was no chance of anyone hearing me. And even if someone did, what should they possibly do in such an incredibly hopeless situation. But wait...since I first noticed His presence, he hasn't so much as moved an inch. Dreading what I'd find, my eyes were drawn to the ground in front of me. Not only had my feet betrayed me by refusing to flee, but now they were moving so painfully slowly in the exact wrong direction. And right into His open, awaiting arms.




The very next thing I felt as something cold and solid on my left cheek. I opened my eyes and was greeted by the nutrition label on the back of an empty can of tomato sauce. Still in a state of panic, I scrambled to my feet and sprinted back to my front door, leaving the wind-blown garbage scattered across the yard.

And then, I'll be honest, I had myself a good long cry. It's such a sad sorry sight, to see someone of my age sobbing like a child. It was because I knew. I know now why He doesn't see me as a threat. Because I'm not. I'm so weak and helpless, all He had to do was stand in my driveway and suddenly I'm reduced to a crying wreck, huddling in my room with the curtains closed to He can't see me. It's still painful to think about I guess. I really can't to anything.

I think the worst part was the fake smile I had to put on once mom got home. I know, I know. I should tell someone. I should try to get help. But I can't. I would love to say that it was because of some noble reason like "I don't want to drag any one else into this, I don't want anyone else to get hurt", but I can't. I have my own selfish reasons. So I swallow all the unpleasantness, the fear, the anxiety, the memory of the deepest, blackest darkness I've ever seen, and I try to continue through the day normally. It's so easy I don't even have to think about. I've had lot's of practice.

I am, after all, an expert liar.