Run and don't look back
It's funny how after one the worst days in your life the little things that are supposed to work fail. It's like the event that leaves you off balance is only the mark of the beginning. The mark of where the tumble begins to a pit of despair and anger. You reach a point where you are willing to do anything in order to get out, even if it's the most idiotic thing you can do.
Picture it:
1 am. Everyone else in the house is sleeping, including your stepmother's relative who's staying over for a week. You're shaking with anger when you decide to fuck everything. You need to leave this house otherwise you'll suffocate. So you do. You do what you have to do to get it out. Because you aren't simpler like some people. You can't talk to someone even though you know you can. You can't stop hanging up before the call goes through. You can't bitch and rant and cry over the phone like you want to. You can't turn to music, playing it until your ears, your fingers, even both feel like they might start bleeding. You wish you could, your throat is closing up, memories brought back and fresh tears begging to fall. Instead you run until your legs cramp up, until your lungs are burning, until you can barely breathe without feeling like you might die then and there. You run until you feel slightly at peace, even if you're in physical pain at that point. I ran.
I wanted to keep running.
I return home to hear my sister, who's crashing my room until our visitor returns home, snoring like a truckdriver named Bubba. the whole house is asleep, yet I'm in a fit of despair. I get little sleep, nightmares and memories slashing at my heart, pushing me further and further into this abyss. It's funny. I felt a moment of relief as I briefly contemplated whether or not the great warriors of the past felt this way. The trouble brewing within them, threatening to poison their very veins. Whether this is the reason why they were so great and victories, throwing everything in their battle: a battle to be victorious. I wonder if they used this as they spoke to their troops, hoping to instill something in them before they went to face death once again. The only moment of relief. That single thought.
So here I was ten minutes ago, hoping to write the complex nature that my emotions are towards something more creative. I'm sitting here only to further be dissuaded, the simplest of editors, Notepad, not even able to open up without crashing. So now I'm sitting here, hoping and praying that I won't go back to that place I remember so clearly in junior year. Hoping and praying that I'll escape from the abyss. But I know I won't. The battle today is not victorious. I'm failing.
I'm not a warrior.