Hanging By a Thread, by Simon Leblovic

"You hang in there," the voice on the phone said. But that failed to offer much comfort.

He felt like he was living in his own private hell. What had happened to him this time? Over a year ago he had gone ballistic and left his job. Then he had gone back to visit someone he thought he knew and there had been a terrible night, which had ended in a hurried return trip. Following his return he began taking medication in an attempt to quell his manic rage, while he still continued to fume over past events. But could he really be sure of what had happened? Perhaps most of it had taken place in his deluded mind.

The rage over past events slowly dissipated with time. The months dragged on and he was left in a lethargic state of depression. There was nothing to do and so he crawled through the days with little energy or purpose. He felt like hanging himself by his old guitar strings just to end the misery. Ah, what cheery thoughts. Perhaps he could find distraction in dwelling once again on past memories, no matter how mundane or far off in time they might be? The lonely days passed and nothing changed. He envisioned a bleak future where his few relationships slowly but surely came to an end. Everyone seemed to have moved on with their lives, while he could only wallow in clouded memories with nothing to do and nowhere to go.

While he was hanging around time passed like a slowly moving river. He knew the best course was to move on and leave mistakes and bad memories behind. Time heals wounds, but how much time did he have and how many more mistakes could he afford to make? He felt that the world and the people in it were all too much. He was weak and the world was too hard for him. And so once again he slipped into dark despair. He wished he could melt into a pool of liquid and evaporate in the sun. He wished he could turn to dust and blow away in the wind. He wished he could sleep and disappear forever in a dream. He wished he could disintegrate and become one with all things. Anything else but to try and live in a world of deception and confusion.

ln our last days we must gradually let go of the past, as the shells of our bodies break down and deteriorate. Little remains but the fading memories and dreams of what we were at various times in our lives. He felt he didn't belong here or anywhere. Thoughts came and went, when all he wanted to be was dead in the head. Faces and memories from the past invaded his sleeping dreams. But he just wanted to forget it aII. What to do now? Who knows what the future might hold. He was hanging by a thread and ready to let go.