I Might End up in Jail

Did I commit a crime? No, I didn’t. Am I innocent? Yes, I am. Do you wanna know why I might end up in jail? Yes, you want to know; I can see you nodding your heads. Well, frankly I don’t know why. However, the possibility is still there. I am just so angry and I might break someone’s window or slap someone cross the face- Yeah! yeah! I know, slapping someone is lame but I have weak arms, you can ask my sister; she would tell you everything about my arms and my.. demons, I might say.
Do I want to break the law? Yes, I do. I want to, let me say, slap a politician cross the face or shove the so called constitution onto the mayor’s rear-the word is only there for literary usage only- I guess, this way I can end up in jail. But, as I am thinking of breaking the law, these visions keep invading my mind. You know, I keep seeing myself on a rooftop, holding a pen and a paper. I got this feeling that I want to write something but the words keep running away from me, I can see them flying onto the dark sky, while I am still there, standing on the verge of sanity. I can see the city laying before me at its finest glory. It might be Gotham for all I know. And inside this vision, a question pops in my head.
Who you want to be?
Maybe someone between Batman and the Joker. Someone stronger than the night and crazier than the clown. However, I don’t want to be neither the hero, nor the villain in this story. I just want to be.. me, just me.
And, within this madness, the face of my first lover appears, I look at him and I feel.. stuck in an endless maze of memories. I reach my hand to touch him but he is too far to be reached, I feel a roar building up in my chest, and crawling out of my lungs, then I laugh in madness, “After all I think I am going to end up in jail before you do,” I breathe out my words.
Did I cry? No, I didn’t… not a single tear.
For few hours and two years, my lover kept breaking my heart.. I think he never loved me; he lied to me all these years like I lied to myself about the meaning of the silence in his eyes. The words were already dead when he said them; I can smell death and you, my love, you were rotten.
The vision ended when I dropped the pen and the paper, and stepped forward falling onto the madness, after all it only took a little push, and my love was there to do the honor for me.
Within this passage there is one truth at least, and it is that I still might go to jail. Don’t ask me why, because I still don’t know.

-Imen

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