lizamajig
His blatant hatred for me, the torture and the scars will stay burned in my mind forever. To change someone's life, to prevent their life, he did this and he will never pay. At the end of it all there is no repair. Thereis a scramble to piece my adulthood back together but it will never be. He took all of this.
I can taste the fear, anxiety and even some excitement. It's there tearing my lungs fresh from my chest. Pulling my mstomach in different directions. It takes my breath, my essence. This is the new chapter.
With my shoulder aching I swing, and swing and swing, clearing a path. There is just a mass of brush in front of me, no light, no clearing but the sword cuts through it all. I am strong and breathing. One day the clearing will come and I will rest. Things will find their places so there won't be the need to fight and ache. For the moment just turning up and fighting is good enough.
The din of the crown fades into the distance as I lower my foot on the pedal. The roar of the engine takes over and there is peace in my mind away from it all. My own laugh rises from my throat and startles me.
Bound, that's how I felt. I felt bound. My heart beat almost out of my chest as he closed the door behind him. We were on the wrong side of the house for anybody to help me. There was nothing to do. My face flushed, the tips of my ears even. He used his body to block the door. It was going to happen again and again. Instantly I felt guilty. I felt that this was my fault. I gulped, scrambled for breath.
It's what we all want to be, right? We all want to lead the way, do something different, be somebody. Then it slips away.Slowly in the beginning, you don't see it happening. There's the initial feeling of "I hadn't planned this life, but there's plenty of time left". But there isn't plenty of time. There's so little time. And then it's gone.Like it was never even there in the beggining.
The blood flowed from the tip of his sword. In fat, red drops they hit they scarlet soaked ground. All around lay corpses and shells of men; those who had fought and failed, those who had given everything for nothing. He wiped the juice of his latest adversary from his blade and turned to face the carnage. All for nothing and he took his heavy steps away from this place; the smell of coagulated blood ripe in his nostrils.
The blood flowed from the tip of his sword. In fat, bloody drops they hit they scarlet soaked ground. All around lay corpses and shells of men; those who had fought and failed, those who had given everything for nothing. He wiped the juice of his latest adversary from his blade and turned to face the carnage. All for nothing and he took his heavy steps away from this place.
Seems so impossible. It's for everyone else, not me. My path is set, it's predicable, boring and unrewarding. Sometimes anywhere is limitless. It's all that could be in life. It's the warmth of a sun I will never feel, air I will never feel glide on my skin and tastes I will never experience.
Oh shit how do I do this when all I feel inside is dread? How do I look normal? Why are they all laughing? Life is goddamn hard and I want to scream in their faces, in their shiney happy faces. It's not bloody funny. I need you to help me not gurn and chortle like a moron. But I do. I gurn and chortle and laugh like a moron... and I'm normal again.
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writing since 2011 · 15 entries · 13 days shown up
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