The Transient

alas, what age was it when s/he woke up in the morning & looked back into the mirror to find out that all s/he’d been told by mother was in fact, a big whopping lie? suddenly, all that had been comfortable was no longer certain & that even the getting up from a deep slumber in the morning was all but a temporary & fleeting state of being--- that change would come whether s/he liked it or not, quicker than s/he would like when s/he wanted it slow & it would take ****ing forever when s/he wanted it quick--- this notion smacked him/her in the head as the proverbial “ton of bricks,” leaving a sense of emptiness which s/he’d never felt before & which s/he had a good feeling, s/he’d never be able to get rid of--- when s/he walked outside the transient saw all the looks in the faces of all those walking round him/her & wondered just how many of them had stumbled upon this reality & just how many were still floating in whatever version of the lie they’d been fed--- then the flood of conclusions was unleashed ripping & tearing up the rocks, sticks & plants down the mountain trail of his/her psyche--- just how much of this change could s/he handle? just how much stress would it cause? just who would s/he turn to, when everyone else was going through the same *****& it was all completely meaningless anyway & how much of it all was s/he directly responsible to or for, in the whole of it? this had been a virginity that s/he truly never wanted to lose & now it was gone, with an immeasurable amount of time left with his/her heart beating to endure the intervals between the next calamity & the next moment of personal chaos which would toss him/her all up in a tizzy, once again.