Some say that abortion of an interview was the straw that sent her over. Others argue that she was so far gone by the time the interview took place, she would have toppled into the abyss even if she had gotten the job. It wouldn’t have saved her. Couldn’t have.
Personally, I’d like to believe she is where she wants to be. Having finally let go of the noose of normalcy that chafed so vigorously at her soul. I’d like to think that at last, she is free. Unfettered. Unchained. Oblivious now to the fears that kept her tethered. Tied.
Stuck in a world where happiness had proven itself utterly unattainable. Where laughter had become a wound. Where indignity had become the mode of the day. And every seemingly quiet moment was actually a barrage of blistering dialogue. Bludgeoning gut shots. Fired by herself. At herself. Her own worst enemy.
Maudlin though it may seem, I rejoice in her madness. In the glaze of her eyes I see redemption. In the slack of her jaw, release. In the fluid movement of her rocking, I see a dance, hear a song. Maybe a lullaby, that no one but she can hear.
This piece, written in 50 word increments is my response to both Eugi’s Weekly Prompt, Laughter and Susan’s Genre Scribes prompt, Interview. Though, what it has to do with either of them, I am unclear.
Special nod to the song, Undun, by The Guess Who.