"At Last": Close Your Eyes The Finale

I think it's time. Look at me. Sitting here, talking to her with that notepad of hers. It's actually pretty comfortable here. I'll leave it to you to imagine what it looks like here. We've talked for a while already.

Introduce yourself. What's your name. Why you are here.

I shouldn't be here. I don't want to be here. But it's been too long.

"So how is he? Chris?" she asks. "Huh? Oh. Surprisingly it went well."

Too well.

"There was no fight. Or quarrel. He just listened to me. And he listened to me. I could see his injuries. They were..... they were bad," he adds on. "And why did you think it went well?" He waits in silence, unsure on how to reply.

I reflected on the time I stepped through the door. I could hear sobbing. I could feel the tears streaming down his face. The trauma. The explosions. The deaths. I could feel it all through his eyes. When you're in that kind of state for such a long time, it wears you down.

"I think he was tired," he replies. "Tired from..... from all of it. Like me."

Is it in our programming that Mankind seeks assistance when in need?

"There is no shame in seeking help," she says. "It's comfortable, isn't it? Passing the time by in your..... state of yours. But......"

A long pause.

I could see the pain in her eyes. Does she understand me? Does she feel what I feel?

"But it's like a marathon that never ends. You keep going on, but in the end..... you end up exhausted."

I take it all in. The tranquility. The silence. The peacefulness. How is it that such rooms can feel so cozy. Like the room is telling you everything is alright. Everything will be

Fine. Just fine. Maybe negativity isn't the way.

"Why is it such a hard climb? To get out of it?" he finally speaks. She replies.

"There's this show I've watched a while back. True Detective. One of the main characters...... he identifies himself as a pessimist. Negativity."

She reads my mind.

"His daughter passed away a while ago. At the start, nothing much happens to him. But later on, his negativity somewhat turns into an obsession of trying to solve the case he had been trying to solve. He became insane. He wanted to continue the case. He wanted control. He wanted the case to go his way. And it did. More or less. But at what cost? His mind. His sanity. His life. I can't control the way others move. Act. Feel. Think........ I don't control. Life. Negativity is blinding."

Falsification.

"But it's a marathon. It's a climb. That's why it's hard. If we can easily get past our obstacles, we become ignorant. We become blind. The monotony of continued success. We won't savor them. The memories. The good times. We will become......

Robots."

A tear trickles down her face.

And so does his. Am I weak?

Or am I getting stronger?

"Close your eyes," she says. "What?" he asks. She repeats herself. He hesitates. Then, he does what he hears.

"I want you to think about your parents. A good memory. Something to treasure." She grabs his hand. He felt a warmth oozing out of her palm. "They will be in your hearts." Then,

I remember. I remember. I remember.

A flash of my first day in middle school. My grades. A hug from mom and dad. My father in bed, ill. My mother tending to him. My father smoking, drinking, then crying, then being comforted by my mother. Then,

I was in the car. Both of them were there with me. I felt something. I was angry. Maybe I argued with them. Think I was sixteen. Their faces were gloomy.

The car stopped in front of a building. High school. And as I unbuckled my seatbelt, my mother reached for me. Her lips pressing onto my cheek. Just then, I could feel her tears. My father grabbed my shoulder. The words that then came out of his mouth hit me real hard.

"Son, you are going to do some bad stuff in the future. But we will always love you. And you will always make us proud." He smiles. I could feel tears as well. My tears. He knew of my future. I knew one day, they would be gone.

How I missed you two.

I smiled and got out of the car. I stood there for a while as my father drove off, getting smaller. And smaller. And smaller.

I could hear a muffled voice. It's her.

"Will I be seeing you again?"

I remember promising her, and her promising me. That we will both make it together. No more lies. I don't want to do this. But I want to. I have to. Maybe I don't want to see her again. Maybe i want to go back.

But I just stayed there, seated on the chair, with my eyes closed. Then, I felt something. Something I haven't felt in a long time.

I smiled.

La Fin.

https://creatingcurriculum.wordpress.com/2014/06/17/unlocking-the-cage/