My mother decides to sponsor the insufficient fund setback and decides to accompany me in a desperate bid to drive a lorry containing my beloved Count and 6 horses from my child hood to a place free of the virus.I drive for hours and hours, I could hear the horses getting restless. Beside the highway is a desolate looking Cafe in the middle of some pristine green paddocks. I set the horses free in a paddock and go to the Cafe for a coffee and a rest. The woman is hostile and irritable, she pours scalding coffee over my face and points out that the time is 1:55pm, and she closes at 2. Get the fuck out.
We've parked the lorry by the highway, and slowly catching the horses and tying them up to the side of the truck. My mother goes to catch the last horse, but she's taking forever. I lead Count up the trailer ramp and put the chain across behind him. My mother is still not back and another horse is getting upset and rips back on the truck, breaking the rope. I rush to catch her standing in front shouldering her into the truck but she tramples me and bolts down the road. The other horses break their ropes and gallop off after the first horse, across the highway. I was screaming and chasing them, but my legs wouldn't work, I couldn't take more then one step without falling. I could hear tyres screeching as one by one they were hit and slaughtered by the cars. I was back with Count who was locked in the trailer and tried to calm him. He reared up and fell over backwards, catching his head on the middle bar. he flipped and fell out and galloped down the road toward the massacre. the trailor was streamed with blood and on the floor half of his face was lying in a pool of blood. I was screaming and crying until I was back at my parents house desperately trying to find him. Nobody around me could understand what I wanted. In the front paddock was 6 black horses lying dead on their sides. They were all harnessed into a carriage which was also flipped on its side, the leader was still alive but breathing heavily. They seemed to be made out of ash with fire red eyes. The leader turned its head to look at me and it was understood that it was going to help me. It got up and started galloping, dragging the 6 corpses and the carriage behind it. Half way down the paddock Count was standing, his face mutilated like that fucking cat (chase no face) and blood was dripping down his nose.
Stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop.
Maybe the interesting has gone and I've become this shell of a person completely overwhelmed by paranoia and fear of stupid things for stupid reasons -the average - the boring. I think that I am confident, and then I realise how much I hide from everyone and why. I doubt they're judging me as much as I think they are. I doubt they hate me as much as I think they do. In comparison, I doubt I am as below average as I think I am. Yet the default thought wins, always.
There are different lights to see through, different ways to interpret. Slicing back from one to another addles and misinterprets reality and ruins memories. It wasn't like that, that was how I made it.
There's so much that's happened, so much I've let affect me when I should have just let it go. Convinced that's how it happened when maybe it was only how I felt and what I brought from it. I'm doing this to myself, maybe I don't want to be happy, I don't deserve to be happy.
Exhaustion, overcoming. What do I do with my time?
