Bitter Sweet Symphony

He listens to the music as the beat tickles the fine hairs in his ears and trickles into his mind turning into giant waves crashing into the beaches of his mindscape. The notes and words soak into the surface and make their way into their perspective places, exciting the electrons and following along paths that his mind had created for such songs. But this song, these notes find a very different path. One that he had thought he’s protected. One that had walls that had formed within days and this song plowed through the walls like a bunker busting missile.What happened was small at first. Memories began to light up in his mind without him wanting them to, but then they rushed out of their now broken fortress. They fell onto his mind like a tropical storm onto a fishing town. The sheets of rain eventually made their way to his eyes, no matter how hard he fought them from rushing forward. He just wanted to work. Why couldn’t he just work? He shuddered as his shirt became speckled with the salt water waves of the storm. 

Turning in his desk was no good, because the memories now stared at him through tiny panes of glass causing such pain in his very being. The time ahead where he would have to be pulled away from them as well as having to say things like, “It will be okay. Daddy loves you forever and ever. I’ll see you in a week.” 

He knows he will sit in his car and he will cry tears that will feel like they will never stop once he rounds the corner. Once he knows his children will never see him faulter. He is the one who has to be there for them, to comfort them, to be their rock. He knows he will be, he will do his best for them until he has nothing left, then he will give even more. 

But for now he cries silently at his desk. Staring through sheets of salt water that cover his sad eyes like liquid veils morphing his vision. Will they hate him? Will they hate him forever? He hopes against hope that they will forgive him for not being able to continue being there. He hopes that they will understand eventually that Daddy is a better person now. That Dad would never be able to fix himself if he felt like he was constantly fixing everything else. He resigns that he will do his best and hope that will be the everything that they need. He sighs and wipes the salted tears from his cheeks. 

He looks up to see his neighbor mouth, “Are you okay?” He nods in denial of everything he just experiences. He nods in denial of everything that he is about to experience. He nods in the face of the absolute end of an era. 
“Bitter Sweey Symphony” by Rio Martin

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