njemile
I didn't mean to do it. Or I did. I didn't want to do it. Or did I? My judgement was clouded by emotions, and the clouds bore raindrops of doubt. When the rain falls, will I be caught in it? Drenched? Soaked? A sodding wet pile of tears that when wrung out, seem to only cause more to fall from the sky. I’ve never seen anything clear as day, because it’s clear to me, the day is for no man to say, whether it’s clear or not. Who knows what the future holds, maybe rainbows? Maybe the sky is falling and I’m praying for more rain, calling, dancing , prancing, in circles, waiting for the sunlight. And when you feel the warmth I’m like Steve Urkel, did I do that, this cycle is a circle. I pray for rain, soak in disdain, and my hand grow blisters from wringing out the pain. A cycle. Over and over again. Repeat it back to me, so I could pretend, that the sun is out. Hotter than the desert. Even the sun gets to feel under the weather.
Violence. The war had seemingly been going on forever. So long, that I wouldn't have understood the reasons lest I had not been born during such events. It started before I was born. Nay, before I was even a twinkle, a thought, and it seems as though it won't end until my countless generations have pasts. "Why? Why are we fighting" I asked my teacher. "We fight to survive" she said. "We fight so that we can live peacefully?" Peacefully? What is peace if it is only the harbinger of death. If it only seems to be peace, but leaves countless lives misshapen with it's frivolous delusions. Something that is strived towards with such hunger. Good intentions and bad people? Or maybe it's the other way around? Maybe it's the fact that we can't be honest with ourselves. We seem to want this peace, this tranquility. But do we really? Is it true that we do not in fact hunger for that lust? Bloodlust? Not even close. We hunger for exsistence. Using rage as an outlet, we deform the lives of other living things, and it makes us happy. It makes us somewhat content knowing that we have the power, that we have the ability to impact another beings course of life. Despite knowing this, despite know that we have this power, we choose to use it negatively. It fills our hunger, quenches our thirst. Why do something positive when you can just leave someone in shambles? By solely using the brain, you can break a being's will, essence, their very soul. What remains? IF anything remains you mean? Simple. A fraction of a whole. A piece of a puzzle, who's edges are so jagged, that it can only pray to be part of a bigger picture again. Hope. Hope that one day this war will be over, and that once everything is said and done, we can turn over a new leaf. If this keeps up however, there won't be any leaves to turn over, nothing but a barren wasteland, desecrated by the very people it tried to advocate
I wake up on the floor once again. I need to stop doing this. It's been one month since I checked out of rehab. I see the certificate of achievement across the room. It reads "Congratulations Noah" I can make out the second line even more clearly, "For Prevail Over Substances" in gold lettering. Substances echoes through my head, becoming ever more realistic as if someone were gently whispering into my ear about the mistakes I'd made over the past 2 years.