Chapter 4 - Acedia - Sloth

Acedia - Sloth

You're an apathetic bastard, you know that? Of course you do. Because I told you once. You laughed this loud, maniacal laugh that twirled and spun through the air, overwhelming ears for miles. It was as if you wanted them all to know how utterly hysterical you found my cheap shots to be. No, maybe it wasn't really a cheap shot after all. It was the truth. Just the fact that I said it made it cheap. You make me that way because even with every hair that stands on end in angry retaliation to this laugh, even with the raise of skin, with each and every loathing goose bump and wounded heartbeat, I love you.

I think that maybe I'm the problem. That you don't have to care or change because at the end of every day a twisted salvation lies in my bruised arms.

So, to spite and to save you, I decided to change. I wrapped myself tightly in a thick layer of retribution and the process began. The sickening creature becomes delicate.

In my cocoon it is lonelier even than the adultery tainted nights alone on the bus. In my cocoon I can do nothing but meditate on you. Your face, your heart, your soul prior to and following the fame-induced metamorphosis that sucked all things good and true from your existence.

From within this first thin layer, I can still hear your laugh.

I know that I have two choices. Not separate or independent of one another, but more cause and effect. I will try with every substantial fiber in my weakened being to make this cocoon fit two. A joint change. A dual rebirth.

I pretended I was the spider and you were the fly. It fit well with this insect themed alteration. Because that's all either of us really is in the end. A parasitic bug. You live off of everything I am, I live off of you.

I spun a large web whose design held my cocoon suspended in air that still carried the sound waves of your hateful laughter. I crawled from edge to edge plotting my strike. I crawled through your veins and bit at your skin, but the poisoned persuasion of a changing man could not wake you from your spiritual lethargy. And in defeat I wrapped my cocoon tight with layer after layer of everything I thought would make you good again. Part two of the plan. Change by example. Change by aid. Change through a love I still cling to.

And it's funny because the day that I emerged marked the end of possibility. Because even in my passionate sobriety, my willing nature, my new-found wings, I could not alter you. The only constant is not change, it is sin.

I awoke from my cocoon and you immediately plucked me up, nailing my living form to the stark white matting of a thick, ebony frame. You smashed the glass upon my figure, and my wings of change ripped under the pressure. And even this delicate beauty began to slowly die, and I began to laugh the sickest laugh. I could only dream that the sound waves broke through glass and reached your sleeping ears. I could only dream they turned your dreams into nightmare just as you turned butterfly to sloth.

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