New Found Blessings

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Editorial and Opinion  |  House: Rabbit's Stories
A free write of my thoughts that have flowed through me for over a week.

Submitted: July 26, 2016

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Submitted: July 26, 2016

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July 25, 2016
Rabbit PS Vang

A free write, by yours truly.

 

A story can begin in many ways. “Once upon a time ago…”
“Long, long ago, in a faraway land…”

“This is a story about a young boy, who one day grows up into a man…”

We all begin somewhere. The start to a beginning that leads to a center, which then creates a climatic ending. Within a writer’s mind, images flow through, canvases that were once blank, emptied out due to a writer’s block, becomes filled with the abstract world of their brains. The streams of ideas, the jet skiing brainstorming that surpasses a blockage of what we wish to express.  How we even do it, we’ll never know.

There are things that we just cannot define let alone describe. Therefore we jot it down onto dripping ink. Drip, drip, dripping down as the ink slowly wears off, dying from the hands of those who use it to write. A tool that is more powerful than the sword. “A pen is mightier than the sword.” -Tyrion Lannister, Game of Thrones- With it, upon a sheet of royal paper, an entire country falls to the ground.

With bylaws, cities fall in the hands of corrupt rulers. With the pen, one becomes the owner of a piece of land. With that land one family fills itself with the riches of the flourished dirt. Seeding the birth of that which will one day bear fruit to produce. Vegetation that will fill the mouths of many.

The romance of a pen that can write down the truest of feelings. The sensuality that has now been lost centuries ago. Long has passed the age of chivalry. Long has passed the days of where a letter meant something so meaningful, so special, so precious. Now words are nothing but whispering letters.

Letters that are too unreal, too untrue to believe in. No longer written from the soul or the deepest chambers of our hearts. Where it all began doesn’t necessarily mean that that is where it will end. Shall it ever end, it’ll be elsewhere. In another world; Another world where things aren’t the way they are in this one.

 

There comes a time in life where we find ourselves in a number of crises. When will we know that we’ve hit a midlife crisis? Some people don’t even go through that phase. The stage of where it’s as if we’re struggling so much due to where our age is compared to where it once was. A factor could be all the stress that someone never learned how to let go of. I shrug at these theories because I am still young.

Too young to comprehend much, but knowledgeable enough to question such things. I’ve seen many things. Too much to recall it all at my age. My age is where I should be looking for love. An age where I go out, live it to its fullest, attend as many events as possible, and grasp onto as many opportunities as there is. But I no longer believe in searching or trying to discover it on my own.

I believe that the Universe will work its magic from up above, thus guiding the aligned stars to one another. Which will then bring us all together. For coincidence is non-existent. How can a destined meeting be a coincidental event? How is it, that it just so happens, two people on a stormy day bump into one another? How do strangers just meet suddenly, yet it’s as though they’ve known each other for an entire lifetime?

The world is cruel. It brings people together, making them think that it’s meant to be. That it’s Fate which brought them together. No destiny at all. None whatsoever.

Destiny differs massively from Fate. Fate is twisted -- Can be twisted. Whilst Destiny is forever aligned, marked, and meant to always be. We lose some, we gain some. We love some, we learn how to let go of others. We don’t… I mean, we shouldn’t attach ourselves to each and every person that walks into our life.

Why should we? There’s no need to waste time, space, and endless amounts of effort on a person who doesn’t even turn around once to look back at you. Why spend time that you’ll never get back on someone who only eats away at your insecure, unsafe life? Why spend endless hours thinking about the idea of loving someone, when there’s someone out there who knows that you’re not meant to love the idea of an ideal person?

We all have visionary dreams of dancing outside in the pouring rain with the one we’ll love for the rest of our life. A person to carry you inside when the world shuts you out, kicking you to the curb, throwing you under the bus. Someone who breaks your heart, yet not as a whole. Only the pieces that need to be broken off. Someone who doesn’t hold you back or stop you completely like frozen ice, no longer allowing you to do the things you love doing most.

A person to make you feel soft, tender, warm, and gives you gentle treatment. Someone to fairly debate with. Even when your blood boils, the coolness of that person’s presence calms you down. Like a breeze that has almost swept you off your feet, that individual lifts your sorrows, caressing you into the dead of night. As if that person has been missing your entire life, you continue to miss her/him when s/he is away. You yearn, yet you do not linger.

Your dried, wept eyes. No longer are your eyes filled with salt-water tears. Like a snow globe, we are all fragile. We are all brittle to the bone. Every piece of our body can shatter at any moment. Add emotions to the equation, all that we’ll have is a disastrous entity. Ready to collapse at any given moment. We are all time bombs.

Setting off at any minute. At any given moment, as if we’ve released the pin off of a grenade, making contact with another force of destruction, we explode. In the midst of the explosion, our fractured bodies lose sight of all reality. The molecules of our souls burst into a pin missile of particles, scattering throughout the world in which we live in. And like a jigsaw puzzle, the pieces of who we truly are become lost. Losing ourselves in the battlefield of Love.

A warfare of our own selves, going against what we once believed in. What is Faith when we don’t know what we truly believe in? The disbelief of the things we cannot explain. The things we are incapable of explaining. Trying to aimlessly search for logical explanations and answers. Brainwashed by the lies that fill our heads and the ears of little ones.

Lies that spread like a wildfire, feeding the minds of children. Bang! Bang! Stab* Stab*

The stench of decaying death. Graves made so often in this current age. The Century of the Dead. That’s what we should call this century. So many deaths that go unnoticed. Parents who are unable to fend and fight for their own child. Afraid to lose their faces if they were to ever beg and plead for help. Fearing that they will judged, looked at with disgust. Well, who gives a fuck?

You can cry an entire river, you can break over a thousand times, but that won’t bring your child back. You cannot free a person from their chains with tears or a voice that becomes nothing but distant echo, lost in time. What you must do is stand back up on your feet. You must stand up, raise your head up high, and you must fight. Fight with the faithfulness of others alongside you, not behind you.

This I say because it’s the truth. It’s true, therefore it is something that you must do. The torch must be passed on, down to generations beyond our ages; Beyond our time. We’re only growing older while they are now just learning how to grow up. Our knowledge, our spirits, our bravery, we must teach it to them. We must give them the courage they need in order to rise up one day.

Being softhearted will take us nowhere in this place known as the world. Pleasing others every damn day of our lives, will not take us anywhere. Kneeling down to suck upon the selfish dicks of dictators or self-proclaimed kings & queens -- that will not take us anywhere in this world. Having someone who puts up a brave facade each and every day of his life tell you this. Now that might take us somewhere.

He decides to share his thoughts, expressing how he truly feels on paper because he is far too broken to show others who and how he truly behaves. He has been hurt one too many times to fully open up. Therefore, he may not do it ever again. Never again will he allow his heart to fall apart.

As if it is a cuckoo clock heart, unstable, shaky, and easy to crack. And so a sister has taught me, that I should not fall into love...rather, I walk into it with my eyes wide open. My body will break, but my soul will always continue to live on, continuing to fight for the things that I believe in. My mind can shatter, but my spirit will continue to sustain my sanity, ensuring that I never go beserk ever again. My body can be beaten down, harassed, abused, but my heart will always continue to wait.

I truly believe that one day, I’ll find that one person. With this gift of mine, born with a sense beyond standard and normal comprehension, I’ll probably know when I get closer to meeting her. For now, I will go about living my life to its very fullest. I will do my best to enjoy every sappy, heart breaking, bittersweet moment of my short-lived life.

 

Until then, the pages end here. The quietness of a Monday evening shall lay at rest. I leave my audience with what has been put down tonight on July 25, 2016. You are all now closer to me in my memories and my twenty three years of breathing


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