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Scattered
Rubbing his hands against his face, he again tried to focus. A few slow deep breaths, that would help. Somthing has to help. He opened his eyes to the darkness in his hands trying to look for some comfort. There was none.
Sitting back in his chair he sighed loudly and looked again at the mess on his desk. Little pieces of plastic on the desk top lay like carcasses in a field. Nothing moved. He felt like he was sitting at a battlefield on the verge of war but everything already had been destroyed. Tension, anxiety, hate, fear, bloodlust, coldsweat...silence. What is this?
It is us.
He closed his eyes. Squeezed them tighter. Tighter. He knew he wasn't breathing. Stop it, stop it now.
This was nothing. This was just himself and that mess on his desk. There was nothing else. He felt the breath rush into him then let his eyes slowly open. The desk was just a desk and the mess on top of it was still his unassembled model tank.
"Sure, we live in a day and age where doctors' hand out drugs for every ailment, mood or crisis like it's halloween night but my doctor, he believes in toys!!"
Shaking his head at his own pointless arguement he picks up a piece of plastic, part of the turret?, he didn't know. The instructions called it "part 78". It didn't matter. Part 78 was never going to meet part 79. That was how things were going to be. Not tank but tankage. It was to become an "assembled disassemblage". Ooo, what a mouthful. He smiled at the thought of his own artsy creation. Yes, his doctor would be pleased. He knew his doctor didn't care how the tank turned out as long as the tank became something that would requre focus to create. This would be considered progress!
"Doc, I still think a pill or two would be so much simpler"
He grabbed the instruction manual from on top of the cluttered creation and held it to rip to pieces. Another idea! They would also become part of his project. They would be the center of the chaos. Yes, the shredded word centered in a mass of confusion. And the finally...burn it all! Call it "The demise of structure."
He laughed at what was happening. What was first a joke and a waste of time suddenly became an idea, a creation, a focus. Maybe a little twisted and rough around the edges but it was still something and that something was his. He breathed in and exhaled. Exhaled so deep he felt himself get lighter. He had an idea, he had a creation, he had a focus but most important, he had control.
He breathed deep again and felt his body relax into his chair. Control. He laughed again.
and so did they.
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