I Love Unlocking Things

I fumbled with my keys, searching for the one destined to turn the lock. After a smooth, twisting motion it would be accompanied by a familiar series of metallic clicks and groans. I loved that noise.

A noise never failing to incessantly conjure up muddled memories. Inner reminiscing prone to gradual decomposition after recollection. As if a portion of my consciousness was alienated from the rest. A corpse that could be reanimated through the slightest provocation; a certain signal from my five untrustworthy senses, an incantation whispered over the swirling contents of the heated cauldron nestled within my skull.

My lanyard, dangling like a noose below my frantic hands, swung rhythmically with the movement of a hypnotist’s pendulum. My palms were overladen, a multitude of hopelessly intertwined rings, entrapping countless keys of varying shapes and sizes; In my estimation weighing close to ten pounds. Initially, I had patiently tried each one, gently slipping the metal instruments into the orifice. Some fit better than others, yet none successfully rewarded me with the sound I so desired to hear. The door I stood before remained mockingly shut, the keyhole gazed furtively at me with a pleading look in it’s singular eye.

The key I sought was like a lone bullet. A bullet loaded into the barrel of a revolver, eventually a trigger pull would discharge the firearm with a glorious bang, and abrupt recoil. A sensation akin to that of which I felt for my niche, and otherworldly enthusiasm.

I craved so desperately to turn the mechanism that would arouse that illusive creature. I wanted nothing more then to feel the sensation of spinning gears reverberate up my emaciated arms. As I toiled, testing key, after key, after goddamned key; I finally found the one. It slid in more smoothly then I envisioned. My heart rate instantaneously spiked. I salivated in eager anticipation. I knew my pupils were dilated. Time slowed as I held the key motionless within the lock.

Feeling like an executioner, I almost couldn’t do it. My perception was dumped into a proverbial vat of syrup, retarding my centrifugally wandering strands of consciousness. I had worked so hard to bring the pair together, perfect lovers, crafted exclusively for one another among a vast world of infinite chaos and unpredictability.

And suddenly a voice spoke within myself, yet separate from myself; rebounding me back to some semblance of a cohesive reality.

Turn that motherfucking key!

The presence of the speaker was always there, I just hadn’t segregated the second-party existence, always assuming all my thoughts and actions were mine alone. I knew little about him or it, only that it had an obsession, of which it lived vicariously though me to fulfill. It had ensnared me in a precarious web of lies, deception, and broken promises. The voice held no logic, upheld no moral code; and fed off my cognitive impotence, and naivety.

I turned the key in the lock. Deceivingly sweet, doused in conniving succulency, a sensation of unquestioned satisfaction and fleeting fulfillment. An urge that it had sold me as purely instinctual. Beyond that door was a hallway, lined with a plethora of other doors. All locked. The cluster of keys clenched in my hands now weighed a thousand pounds. The demon dwelled, spliced to my ego and personality, It forced me to commit deeds, monotonous, morally ambiguous, yet objectively repulsive.

It was at that moment I chose to break free, but it wasn’t easy, It isn’t easy. I live in a constant state of inner conflict. A silent war raging, concealed by a stony countenance. It shakes the very fiber of my being.


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