Everything But You

After losing someone close I must come to grips with what it will take to survive.

Everything But You
By Keaton Foster

“Mutually Elusive.”


A once-brighter sun in my sky has hidden itself away, falling far from all grace, deep-sixing itself below a horizon I could never hope to reach. Regardless of before, I am less than certain it will return. Such is my life; such are my ways. In a constant state of apprehension, I presently exist.

Higher and higher, a solemn moon obfuscates all residence. Screaming into view, it’s the only thing left in my life, in this world, that has not waned in opacity when, in my mind, it clearly should have. Billions of stars dimly shine in an ever-thickening night’s realm. All around, walls of absolute darkness fall. From one possibility to every other, blackness saturates through.

The world around me creeps to a standstill. Nothing invades, crawling into my skull, settling behind my eyes. The caustic nature of all it represents is keenly felt. It burns my skin, lessening my defenses, breaking me down, tearing me apart at the seams. It won’t be long—it never is—until I surrender to all that night and its nothingness bring.

What is so different, what is greater than tragic? That she—you—are nowhere to be found. As it has before, but this time more so, everything but you invades. No love fills my lungs. No sense of joy embraces this man’s heart. Nothing I have believed in remains. All that was before is now nothing more. Everything but you, and more, is here, at this point in time, in this self-defined, self-prescribed prison.

The forest stands, and nature follows its plan as life and death unfold around me. Creatures big and small exist for a purpose simpler than our own. I am jealous of their ability to reduce life to survival or not. One must die so another lives. One must be a greater evil to those showing any sign of weakness. It is truly a matter of kill or be killed, consume or be consumed.

At my feet, a crystal-blue sea shines endlessly for miles. The warm sand grates at the soles of my feet. Seagulls swirl in ever-smaller circles, screaming for a scrap to survive one day more. The more I observe them, the more I relate, the more I understand. As this world spins, people do what they must to survive, and from this moment on, I am certain that so must I.

From this day forward, every day I endure, I will look to the sky and begrudgingly thank all that is above. In spite of everything, the world will spin on. Time will reclaim each second, good or bad, of this life. I will do all I can, as I have my entire life. I will embrace all that I am and find a way to bear all that hurts me so.

I will look around and see this world for what it is and what it has become. You have long since left this wondrous place behind, and I must accept that I will never again hold you close or see you in all I must do.

From this point on, I will have everything but you.


*Everything But You*
*Written by Keaton Foster © 2015.*