to the shadow of my past
You might have never said it, but I know you believed it. That couldn't happen, it couldn't exist. Those thoughts in that context - it was impossibe. And we had better accept whatever it was we could get, whether we liked it or not. Whether it was a choke-chain around our necks smothering out our lives, cutting into our flesh, tearing whole chunks of bloodied tissue out of our souls, we'd better accept that.
Well, you were wrong. I'm living proof of that.
See, what you never took into account was that we were wrong. That we had everything backwards, not that the world was unchangably that way. That we were just two kids, doing things wrong, making horrible mistakes, seeing - constantly - with skewed, waery, lonely eyes.
But, I can't blame you alone. I saw just as wrong, just as backwards as you did. I saw the world with bleak light and dark shadows and sharp rock jutting out of every place that I might stand. I saw the same cold, hard, unlivable reality that you saw. And the only way I saw out of it was the same way you did: desperation, clinging for life to anything that still breathed, still lived, still seemed warm enough to at least hold onto. Crying out only in echoes, clutching to any hope that seemed like hope at all. And not letting go for all longing of somehow seeing light again.
But there was no light. There was no horizon with any scattered light coming from off in the distance. There was never going to be, and you know why?
Because you, I, we were wrong. About love, about life, about "us". And it made us believe there was no escape, nothing better to search for, nothing stronger or more tangible or more substantical worth groping around in that dark for. Made us believe all people were just as broken, just as hurt, just as shattered as we made ourselves out to be. And that no companion, no love, no "God" could do anything about it.
But we didn't see, didn't know, didn't actually have love. We had desperation, and fear, and doubt - and a semblence of some rippled reflection on some pool of water somewhere that looked a little bit like forever. Had some string of some wishes twisted up together and strung with a few random prayers in which we only sought the answers we wanted to hear.
And we made sure we heard them, confirmed them, grinded them into concrete and stood atop them. Declaring what we called truths that we'd come to know, the reality we'd come to accept, the pain we'd come to love - in place of that god that never did things right.
But one day, while you weren't looking, I got away. Like a sole-surviver from a plane wreck, like the scared little girl in the back of some derailed train, watching with ashen covered eyes, her entire family die and wondering how or why she survived. ...for some reason, I survived.
But I'm still not so sure that you did - not so sure you made it out of the sickening maze, not so sure you could breathe through the ash. Not so sure you ever really saw the same horizon - the same glint of the same light that I saw. And I'm not sure you knew it or thought about it, or even wanted to.
But I had to, and you damn well knew that. Knew that I had to break the chain, knew I had to scale the walls that were holdig us into that caged life, that hopeless existence, that steel barbed trap that we laid out to kill ourselves on.
Knew I had to do it whether I'd get shot dead, whether I'd bleed to death for all the wounds and cuts, whether I'd pay the penalty for my escape or not.
-RK
Well, you were wrong. I'm living proof of that.
See, what you never took into account was that we were wrong. That we had everything backwards, not that the world was unchangably that way. That we were just two kids, doing things wrong, making horrible mistakes, seeing - constantly - with skewed, waery, lonely eyes.
But, I can't blame you alone. I saw just as wrong, just as backwards as you did. I saw the world with bleak light and dark shadows and sharp rock jutting out of every place that I might stand. I saw the same cold, hard, unlivable reality that you saw. And the only way I saw out of it was the same way you did: desperation, clinging for life to anything that still breathed, still lived, still seemed warm enough to at least hold onto. Crying out only in echoes, clutching to any hope that seemed like hope at all. And not letting go for all longing of somehow seeing light again.
But there was no light. There was no horizon with any scattered light coming from off in the distance. There was never going to be, and you know why?
Because you, I, we were wrong. About love, about life, about "us". And it made us believe there was no escape, nothing better to search for, nothing stronger or more tangible or more substantical worth groping around in that dark for. Made us believe all people were just as broken, just as hurt, just as shattered as we made ourselves out to be. And that no companion, no love, no "God" could do anything about it.
But we didn't see, didn't know, didn't actually have love. We had desperation, and fear, and doubt - and a semblence of some rippled reflection on some pool of water somewhere that looked a little bit like forever. Had some string of some wishes twisted up together and strung with a few random prayers in which we only sought the answers we wanted to hear.
And we made sure we heard them, confirmed them, grinded them into concrete and stood atop them. Declaring what we called truths that we'd come to know, the reality we'd come to accept, the pain we'd come to love - in place of that god that never did things right.
But one day, while you weren't looking, I got away. Like a sole-surviver from a plane wreck, like the scared little girl in the back of some derailed train, watching with ashen covered eyes, her entire family die and wondering how or why she survived. ...for some reason, I survived.
But I'm still not so sure that you did - not so sure you made it out of the sickening maze, not so sure you could breathe through the ash. Not so sure you ever really saw the same horizon - the same glint of the same light that I saw. And I'm not sure you knew it or thought about it, or even wanted to.
But I had to, and you damn well knew that. Knew that I had to break the chain, knew I had to scale the walls that were holdig us into that caged life, that hopeless existence, that steel barbed trap that we laid out to kill ourselves on.
Knew I had to do it whether I'd get shot dead, whether I'd bleed to death for all the wounds and cuts, whether I'd pay the penalty for my escape or not.
-RK
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