Raise Forth Lost Cause

Lately, I've been thinking about what it means for someone to know you. What does it mean to really know someone? I tell myself, that I just want one person to know me, and to love me for that knowledge. But isn't it supposed to be loving someone else for that knowledge? In all these years, it's still something I wonder about.

And so the wondering continues. Some days, it's easier to shrug it off. Other days, I think everyone just wants someone to be there, holding them, and telling them it'll all be okay. But what do I know? I get paid to kill people. I'm a monster for work. I just try to avoid being a monster outside of combat. I think that's the hard part to balance. As we were warned.

"So give me Justice and I'll have Paris in flames."

So in other news, my oldest boy is in a children's psychiatric hospital. *sigh* I'm struggling with that and trying to determine just how I feel about it. There are two things I've been told about the situation. Accept it as it is and that my boy has "issues" or don't. I've never really had any problems with him or his behavior. I think he has a lot of anger about some things (the divorce, living with his mother), but I think those are specific things and sometimes, we as parents, maybe might blind ourselves to those things and just find it a little easier for him to be out of control.

So, wrap those two together and there I am. That's what's on my mind. Throw in some hope, a little wishful thinking, a little nervousness, and some deep thought and here I be.

The Going Price For Home.

The Going Price For Home.


"They don't hear the serpent that burns your ear,
Or the coward that sits alone in your head with itch...
Baby look out!
Because I'm so sorry that you could ever,
I'm so sorry for you, you'll never love again..."

He is sitting silent. He is walking in the rain. Looking to the sky for answers that never seem to come. He has known this for years. "Time changes all things.", he muses. A look on his lips that passersby wouldn't understand. He returns to the four walls he inhabits with himself. A room so empty, but so full of ghosts. Time continues to pass. He stands in the shower, scalding water turning his tired skin red. "How", he thinks. "How do I purge all that is unnecessary within myself?" Over time he has come to fear talismans as objects of attachment. The weight he is sure that will settle upon his heart with full force were he to glance or wear such a thing. "The emptiness is bad enough," he thinks.
"Why would I try and make it worse? Why is self-destruction sometimes so much easier?"
The water runs down red flesh into a drain; taking everything from his skin. His attempt at cleansing his mind at an end for another day.

Occasionally when not looking into himself, he looks outward. Looking at others. Sometimes entranced. Sometimes disgusted. Sometimes it's like a spear to the chest. A call to turn back inward. Or blind himself.