At some point in your life, a moment comes that breaks you. It’s a break that you can hear. It echoes through your body like the metal gears of an old clock suddenly snapping loose from its tight wound precision. It’s the sound of a mind coming apart. It’s the swan song of idealism, the undoing of a lifetime of beliefs, the disassembly of romantic notions, and the silent surrender of the last of your youth.
The moment before this sound, you were presented with a choice. Not an everyday choice, but one of those choices that sneaks up on you in a moment of opportunity. It’s a panicked choice that gives you only seconds of consideration, praying upon the weak and flawed curious nature of your fears. It’s not enough time to battle the selfish advantage that opportunity brings—and it has little regard for even the most principled of minds. Good… just needs more time to battle evil. And so sometimes, weakness wins.
The moment you’ve made the choice, you can never undo it. Regret and shame settle in like a new blanket of skin, and a profound loss battles your guilt for centre stage. The consequences of your choice seep deep into the nooks and crannies of your thought centers, like the silent flow of lava cementing the dry, cracked plains of the earth. It traps you. Crippling you from the inside out.
And that’s when you hear it. The grinding gears of an old clock.
Suddenly quiet. Void of animation and life.
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