In Darkest Of Times

In the darkest of times, a man finds he is staring back unto himself, an empty shell with all his flaws spilled out in front of him. He sees what he truly is inside, hidden away from the rest of the world with a fake persona. Even those close to him, have only ever seen glimpses of this hidden world, but never the full, horrifying self.

I’ve heard that in order to understand another, you must walk the same path they have walked, faced the same ups and downs they have. If this is true, then sadly, there may be no survivors to stand next to me at the end of my road. I’ve had my good times, sure, but I’ve also had my fill of bad times, and more than enough times filled with pure, utter grief. Give any normal, sane person a single day of my life where all three times have happened in the course of less than six hours, and see if they’re still standing at the end of the rubble. I doubt you would.

Thing is, I met someone that grew on me, and came to mean many things to me. I let her into my world believing she would be able to understand it. There was a sense of relief, a calmness, and joy that came from this. There was someone who found me, was interested in me in all ways possible, and on some level, even understood me. There are few and far between feelings that surpass knowing, having found this person. But like all things that seem to good to be true, a fiery blaze is how it must end. You find the person that seems to understand you, who gets your odd quirks, and finds them cute. Able to comfort you when feeling off, or share your heavy loads. But then, then you find that its all been a false ruse, and nothing of it rooted at all. This is when you realize, some part of you that has been buried, forgotten, is still existing, and can still wreak havoc within your mind.

I was open, completely open, with no shield up to protect myself. Why would I need it? What use would it be but to hinder? I was safe on this side, with someone who had my back. Or at least I thought I was. It was warm at first. And very isolated. But then it spread, and became painful. It was hard to breathe, each breath spreading it further. I was dying from the inside out. I could hear the screams of pain ripple through halls of deep caverns.

In the brightest of times, anyone can bring you back to your knees, but in the darkest of times, its the memories and residual feelings that come to haunt you each night. It’s been eight months since my fiery death, and I can still hear the cries of pain echoing softly from my caverns as the fogs of doubt slowly lift from their veils.

They say once you’ve walked that mile in another’s shoe, only then can you understand them. But what do you do if you’re walking in your own shoes, and are still lost, void of answers?

You keep walking in search…

Two Years After The Wails

The banshee’s wail, thought to be a warning for those who hear it’s cries and screams, may neither be a warning or meant for them at all.

The Earth shattering realization mere moments away from the comforts of deep slumber while the world whizzes on by at its usual pace of millions of nonsensical cares a second, for a minute second, halted. The wail of a banshee was not that to be a warning for others this time, but of uncontrollable grief taking hold of the body as it dropped to the floor. It’s only ability given to offer, is that of unrelentless heartache while the air escapes each crevasse of the lung. The lasting effects of those who’ve heard it, are a scorched memory of that night forever left a reminder that this is when it all changed.

Two years have now gone. Two years of life nonexisting. Two years of moments, hugs, kisses, laughter not stolen nor captured. Two years of heartaches unending and beyond mendable where you once were. Two years of everything changing.

That night we started running. Once that shockwave subdued long enough, once feet were able to be planted ever so, we started. We’ve yet to look back. It took near an hour, but we got there. Into the car, buckled, blanketed to calm the cold, and with a destination desperately needing to find us there. The wailing still fresh in my soul, it was then up to me, at those earliest of hours, to make sure the distance was gone. The only feelings that were there to guide were those that knew exactly what the physical road was presenting ahead, the same miles these bones had traveled for years before and knew so well. Everything else was empty and useless with no way of knowing how anything at that time. It was just important that we go, and that I knew how to get there.

Since that night, hours have faded into days fading into months with memories of happier things holding back all the pain. Things yet to come will be sorted in their ways when they need to be, while each day, two little worlds continue to grow and thrive. They are protected from everything and will always be so for as long as they need or wish to be. They know the realities of how harsh life can and will be, but they also know that your sword and shield once protecting them, has been picked up and continues through this day.

Two years gone. Two years of amazing growth. Two years of running, many more to go.

Two years never forgotten with dozens more remembering.

A Light Shines Through

It’s been nearly a year since the knock on deaths door was heard; a year of everything changing, evolving. No longer the same man that once inhabited this body; alone with one’s thoughts can have a chilling effect on how they perceive themselves. There was death’s hand that day; the only one stretched out in those early hours of emptiness. It was not taken, but left stretched during that long drive. It would have been easy to grab hold of it, yanking him in nice and close. But no good would have come from this act. He was useless as ever in those hours, and I wasn’t ready to deal with him just yet. He could squander a few more hours away, waiting.

Those hours quickly turned to days, then weeks, and now almost a year has passed. The darkest days have long gone, with new opportunities coming in every day. A steady job has been held since the aftermath, with freedoms that are greatly needed. More adventures have been taken with kids eager to conquer the worlds around them, and I’ve been there each step of the way. Watching things unfold, helping plans progress, all while the past remains where it is; a lesson to be forgotten within the ingrained history of myself.

Rather sad than funny, how you were once willing to let everything slide in order to be with the person that nearly killed you… But those days are done, forgotten about. Now, a new light breaks through the grey dull that has settled within. Slowly, with purpose, it has cleared the way for new, better opportunities experienced. Some days death is a welcomed friend; this day was a lesson taught by death, and turned around.

A Story Untold, Pt. 1

Once upon a time has been used, perhaps, in this setting, just once, too many times. No, this will not be a happily ever-after fantasy. I’ll save for those poor souls who need it more that journey. Quite instead, I think we’ll begin ours a bit, differently this time ’round. You see, I’ve never been one to be able to sit and write quite so easily; finishing a story in its entirety, but rather, offer extreme glimpses over the whole of a lifetime. Mayhaps this time shall be different, I hope.

Oh, I don’t recall so easily how, or even why I ended up sitting down at that moment, but it was crucial that I did. More so, that I begin writing down my thoughts as they quickly, almost quietly slipped past my conscious. These words needed to be writ before it was too late to capture them. See here now, that once the thought has occurred in such a manner, nay shall it be allowed to do so the same again. And shouldn’t that be the point of it all? To have the stroke of genius strike but only once to a man? No, I didn’t think so either, least before sitting down that night.

Sadness is a human affliction, or so we’ve been lead to believe. Rather differently I believe, it is an affliction of life. One that spans all creatures, regardless if they have higher functions or not. Though there are different levels of sadness, to be felt by each, at different times, and with different intensities, there are some to whom, rather unfortunately, must deal with great shades of pain and sadness, all within a single lifetime of living. Then there are those poor souls, who must deal with it all in extremely short spans of time. Some turn to dull the pains brought, others are driven made by it. While some, much like myself, abuse it in order to bring new life from it. We don’t control it, but we also don’t let it control ourselves. We simply respect it, learn from it, and every now and then, ride the waves as they come crashing.

See here, this writer’s heart, mind, and soul have all been through levels of hell unfathomable to others. But yet here it wrote this, still kicking, fighting, dying. It’s oft been writ before, and to be so again, of the pain and suffering that we’ve journeyed through together. It’s been broken, abused, and used more times than care to recall. It’s also known immense joys within incredible sorrows. Yet all three continue to press forwards. There are times, oh there are many times, when it all comes swelling once more within. A few stray tears will fall, and the room heavy, will grow. But the journey still continues to carry forth from depths once unknown.

What Distance Costs

Every day a struggle to find my way thru
Every day the marathon of taunting thoughts
Wrecking havoc ready to break free of me
Set aside the madness focus on the child

No one seems to understand what it really means
Living lies inside this head to make it thru the night
How far away the travel stays to take away
The miles racked up in between mountains and the sea
No one seems to understand what this distance costs

Alone in this head is not a safe place to live
For if you could see me, could you be near me
After learning all the truths trapped inside
With it’s long dark roads winding inside mazes

The child is long now lost unable to understand this
How many miles of traveling must be made
The woman by my side, seems I make her cry
With lonely distance the only thing at her side
No one seems to understand what this distance costs

Thousand miles here and there seems like nothing
But only to those not out there with me
Forget cross-country but mountains from the sea
Those winding roads slowly killing me

As I make my way to and from
My loving ones to my home
Six-hundred miles in the night
Is quite the sight
As I barrel down the roads

No one seems to understand what it really means
Living lies inside this head to make it thru the night
How far away the travel stays to take away
The miles racked up in between mountains and the sea
No one seems to understand what this distance costs

No one seems to understand what this distance demands
The sacrifices being made for the few hours one day
A heavy heart drives the car with eyes watery
For it’s two weeks time we must depart
But no one knows what this distance costs….

It’s broken hearts every time I say goodbye
With teary eyes for every mile I drive
A worn and battered soul
With a woman and a child waiting
For me to drive home along more lonesome miles

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In Blink’s Of Eyes

In blink’s of eyes, life passes by
In blink’s of eyes, life quickly dies
In moments past, yet to come
Living days, one to one
New lives come, old ones leave
Quicker than changing leafs

Setting sun on last days run
Lonely breath is all that’s left
As the body slowly gives up

Life moves one with memories remain
And moments lost never regained
Nor future ones be shared
From blink’s of eyes
To eternal stares

Of little moments not to share
A watchful knowing is always there
As life grows on in little smiles
Pictures past will show her why
With past and future meeting again
In only photos years begin

Neither man nor wife will ever meet
Nor see the future with disbelief
A single child with eyes wide
Only moments was captured by
Within those moments of smiles and eyes
Generations crossing paths

With past now gone, and future wide
Memories keep them alive
In few pictures that do survive
They’ll know the ones by their sides
Stories told each every night
To keep their memories alive
Now long gone from blink’s of eyes

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