I've died so many times, but I've always escaped. I always found my way back.
Mason got frustrated with me, He knew he would get me, he just didn't think it would be so hard or take so long. He cursed every opportunity for my baring fruit in a life long struggle and I would not give up. How can someone, not ever in their lifetime, come on top or ahead of anything? Anything.
I'd only fall and standup to fall again and again and again.
I've been relentless. In my defiance, I'd better myself, improve my skills and assets, in vain. A curse? Indeed.
The curse extended to my personal life as well as my professional. I was not able to feel wholly, love wholly. The good things I did have, I was unable to thrive in it's joy.
Now, when I think of it, it makes so much sense. Benevolent Torture. Mason was toying around with me.
He made things tangible to touch, then it would disappear. He did that a lot. He laughed at my efforts in thinking I was a good person. My willingness to help and give to others would only weaken me instead of lifting me. I was tricked. I was never a good person. I thought I was, it was a just deception.
I never had a heart. I never had a soul or should I say, it was his soul all long. The heart was mine, that was the aid for treachery. I had to believe what I thought I was.
I was stuborn and defiant, I thought I could beat him, ignore him. He wore me down. Of course he would win. HE? Who the Devil? I don't know for sure. A bored angel perhaps? I call him Mason. I don't know why. All I know is, something has to make sense of my life. Nothing else does.
Mason got tired of playing me. It was time to put me in my place. It was time to let me know what "I" was messing with. Unfortunately in my being humbled, Mason would not only take me, he would hurt everything and everyone close to me. Simply because, why would he care? I'm in fatal limbo.
So to make things really fun, what's life without a little sordid drama? Enter Mason and his chick with serpent eyes, to finished the job. Believe me, there is nothing more humiliating than watching these two look and laugh at you.
I have to admit, Mason is to marvel at. He designed the perfect torture, almost pretty to look at. Your reservation drops. Your mind goes, so does you reasoning. There's no point in trying not to make a fool of yourself. You're helpless. You're tired and no one can help you. All you can do is pity yourself and watch them laugh.
The least I can say for me, I didn't make it easy.
The big question is, why am I writing this? If I didn't know any better, I'd blame Mason for giving lonely, sick people a cheap thrill into thinking that a life in the narrative means anything more than the 3mins someone 'might' give it. It's all part of the curse. All part of making me a bigger fool. Obviously I've conceded.