bria

Thank God Mark was an only child. He was the kind of person that would have given any sibling a rival so intense it would have created hatred. Hatred was the driving force of him still. He hated himself so thoroughly it was impossible to understand for most, including me. He was amazing at everything he did. So insanely smart the only thing his brain could comprehend was insanity. He didn't have to try the way everyone else did. If he wanted to play an instrument he picked it up and made music. If he wanted to draw he put his pen to the paper and art was born. When he decided to write poetry, his insanity made him inately perfect for the task. When he looked in your eyes, proclaimed love for you, it melted you. It made you forget every single thing you've ever known and just believe. It made a sane person crazy, a sober person a drunk, a cynic a believer. He never slept. He passed out from pure exhaustion or drunkeness. His mind never rested. Even his dreams were haunted by needles, powdered lines and bottles. He had mistaken too many wolves as kind and as such despised happiness of any kind. There were moments and things he wanted to believe in. Animals, children and innocence struck his heart so profoundly he would break from his normal shell and be sensitive, kind and loving. He could callouslywalk past a bum freezing in Northern Virginia winter, only to scoop up a neglected puppy lovingly into his arms a block later. More to come as I find the words to say............