Mouthful of Diamonds

“Wake up,” she said… I found myself hunched over the bed, half dead as she would claim. Everything had spiraled out of control by this point, I lost all focus and now I was living the junkies dream… nightmare was more like it. Everything I ever wanted was well within my position to attain, but what I craved was something that couldn’t be bought at any store, it wasn’t anything that any regular person could have; you had to fight for it, and when you finally were fortunate to get your fingers close enough, there was no turning back. I wanted power, I wanted respect.

The power was easy, and the respect… well that was easy at first, however both were done thanks to the power of fear, and fear alone. I had become bigger than I ever imagined unfortunately this left as a perfect target for more than one type of person. I walked around every day with a bullseye on the back of my head, practically begging to be taken out by the next punk that thought he knew what he was doing, or hell even the heat that would’ve loved to permanently solve their problem. I was in a constant state of panic, but I had to stay calm, I had to look cool, I had to be in control otherwise my whole tower would’ve definitely crumbled from beneath my feet.

I buried my nose in my own product; I buried myself like an ostrich trying to hide. How idiotic could I be? The root of my problems seemed like it could also be my salvation—there was no saving me at this point, I was in too deep, and there was no coming out. Well I suppose the plan was always to go down in a blaze of glory.

Pig Food

Winter is a merciless endeavor. Often we feel like we’ve had enough, and in that desire to see the Sun cast its glorious rays down on us once more, like a fickle bitch it teases us. Momentarily for only a day’s time, two at most, it will indeed warm our hearts that have begun to ice over, only to bring forth yet another reminder of who’s actually in charge. The cold breath that we feel on the back of our necks often does one of two things: it either forces us to pull ever so closer for our lover’s embrace, or for the unfortunate many it’ll force us to flip the collars of our lapels and wearily trudge along, yearning for that next moment of warmth. The nights are long, the days are short, too short to even give warmth an opportunity, but I suppose we forget that after all it is indeed winter, and loneliness needs its own time too.

Despite this feeling of loneliness… despite the solitude we’re forced into like captors in the Great War, there’s a hope that is inherent, there is that light at the end of the tunnel. Some recognize it as Spring, but really it’s just the great meltdown. Those hearts that were iced over begin to thaw, and we allow ourselves once more to cling on to hope, no matter how false the feelings may seem to be. With this peek into the realm of brighter possibilities maybe we can find salvage for our character, maybe we can see a reflecting hope within our spirit. If it’s been lost there’s no reason to assume it’ll always remain absent, instead we may assume its eventual return.

The spirit seems to leave just as most things do; it grows weak, tired—it becomes fed up with the same monotonous routines and the same despair that we ourselves cannot singularly claim freedom from. As a friend it rather leave when it things become too uncomfortable so as not to sever the relationship to its host permanently. We must find our way back to that home of sanity, the dwelling of acceptance; we must become satisfied with the stranger in the mirror, and rely on the unknown within to help us get through the unknown “on the out.” Become strong in self, in body, and in mind, to become strong for one another…

…a task I know is much simpler said than done, but one can hope, right?