-DOWNER ALERT-
At times it is difficult to distinguish the right path from the path that is simply less threatening, though the presence of fear does not mean that fear is reluctance's only sustenance. There is much to be said, yet at the same time, there is very little to be said. It is a hard thing to acknowledge complexity, within yourself and within others. When your soul has been hurt grievously, it is difficult to keep your vision from being clouded by the deed; it is hard to remember that the person responsible is just that; a person. Like you.
But these two realities do not seem to melt together seamlessly. How could anyone, who breathes with their lungs, feels with their hands and their heart, like me, do this to another person? I want to believe that you're the fucking devil and that you have no soul. I want to believe that you did this with knowing malice and that you reveled in the act. But I cannot believe these things, because I have seen into your eyes and I have felt your heart. The way of things placed a drop of water between you and I, and that drop of water grew into an ocean of such depths to drown any man, no matter how strong his heart. This change wove its way into the foundation of my very soul, and it was my inability to understand and accept this change that took the wound you gave me and opened it back up. Again. Again. And again. It bled me out and brought me to my knees. From my knees I would curse the whole of existence because I would not let myself curse you. Yet you never heard my words, because the you I was trying to reach was two years dead. To this day, the love I have for you does not belong to you, but to the girl whose heart was one with mine for a time when we were younger. You hollowed yourself out to cope when I left, and now that our roles have switched I fear that I am doing the same. Very little is certain anymore, but some things I know. You will never love the ghost you made of a once honest man, and I will never forgive the devil you became beneath my hands.
At times it is difficult to distinguish the right path from the path that is simply less threatening, though the presence of fear does not mean that fear is reluctance's only sustenance. There is much to be said, yet at the same time, there is very little to be said. It is a hard thing to acknowledge complexity, within yourself and within others. When your soul has been hurt grievously, it is difficult to keep your vision from being clouded by the deed; it is hard to remember that the person responsible is just that; a person. Like you.
But these two realities do not seem to melt together seamlessly. How could anyone, who breathes with their lungs, feels with their hands and their heart, like me, do this to another person? I want to believe that you're the fucking devil and that you have no soul. I want to believe that you did this with knowing malice and that you reveled in the act. But I cannot believe these things, because I have seen into your eyes and I have felt your heart. The way of things placed a drop of water between you and I, and that drop of water grew into an ocean of such depths to drown any man, no matter how strong his heart. This change wove its way into the foundation of my very soul, and it was my inability to understand and accept this change that took the wound you gave me and opened it back up. Again. Again. And again. It bled me out and brought me to my knees. From my knees I would curse the whole of existence because I would not let myself curse you. Yet you never heard my words, because the you I was trying to reach was two years dead. To this day, the love I have for you does not belong to you, but to the girl whose heart was one with mine for a time when we were younger. You hollowed yourself out to cope when I left, and now that our roles have switched I fear that I am doing the same. Very little is certain anymore, but some things I know. You will never love the ghost you made of a once honest man, and I will never forgive the devil you became beneath my hands.