Internal Affairs

Sometimes, words really can't describe how you feel.

No, it cannot describe it accurately. But by golly, no one has stopped trying before.

So what is it that I feel right now?

It is an inordinate amount of pain. Inordinate, partly because it is not my pain. Not my battle, not my war. But pain, because it beats away at your chest. I was tempted to say smack, but that word hints at the sound, rather than the act, the effect rather than the process.

Beat. Numbed. Enraged. Sad. Despair, even, somewhat, all rolled into one.

There is always a desire to do something when such emotions do their own version of the War of the Roses. Perhaps even more than that; a desire to change the outcome is definitely on agenda. That does not change when that war is not your own. When it is one that is being fought not by your goodself, but by someone close to you.

They go into battle, fully armoured, suited and booted for battle. But bit by bit, slowly but surely, pieces fall off into the ground, the granites stomped at their foot grows its fangs and takes hold of it, the helmet protecting their head comes flying off, burning away in the atmosphere like the ashes of dead men.

Dead people.

And then they are slain, one by one. Not a quick, painless one. The sword is brought down with might and grace, skinning them here, slicing them there, until all the blood that their heart can pump is nearly drained out from the body. Their cold eyes looks at you, a million questions all asking the same thing.


It is a question to which you don't know the answer.

You don't know anything. You can't do anything.

All I can do is watch.