...it uses sunshine as its muse but can be written in the most bitter of ink. Things are just way out of control in all sorts of senses. Lately, it feels like life has backtracked in terms of how this family was doing.
I never thought it would fix itself, no, things are much too broken for that. But I did think that we could all move past things and at least be a bit more sensible. Yet, we can't apparently. The last intense scene at home I can recall is the dispute over where to move. I thought for sure that if we went here that he would follow through the threat of not coming along. But he did. He came along and he is still here. I thought we overcame that and could be civil but I have never been more wrong. The small arguments and the little tampuhans, those were nothing but rising action. Like lava rising out of the earth, everything is reaching its maximum. I want to see things burst at the seams and watch all the feathers just fly into the air. At that point, no turning back. You can do all you can to make a pillow burst and send the feather into the air but you can never ever get them all back in and reach normality.
Herein lies the character development embedded between the lines. I myself am already coming apart at the seams again, something I swore I would not allow. I promised myself to keep my anger in check. So far, I haven't done anything. But I can feel that little red beast just clawing at me, trying to get loose from the bonds of civility that I shackled it with for a lifetime. 'Everyone cracks sometime,' I am always told. I haven't yet and I don't ever want to. I'd never forgive myself if I did. I have to learn to forgive. I promised when the burdens were burned that I would do that. It's keeping me from God the way the hate and anger eats me alive when I see him at home. Worst of all is how you change. You of all the most deceptive villains are cunning and prey on the human weaknesses around. You prey upon sympathy and compassion, my sympathy and my compassion. You know that the way to get to me is that. You beg and you plead and you apologize and you hide and you skive off the blame. But in the end, even when I strengthen my resolve against you, it shatters. I put up all my defenses to protect myself, yet the heart will always be the weakest.
The villain is as complex as the human psyche. Why must you do what you do? Lurking in the shadows, springing into the fray, eyes blazing and seething. Yet you also return whimpering in the wallows with sorrow in your heart. That's the cruelest creature of them all. The one that changes shape with situation. So cunning and sly, it will always know the best skin to suit its need.
All I can ask myself is when is the climax coming? When do I get to see the apex of everything that I've worked for , of everything that mom's suffered for, and of everything that he's broken? I want to see how this will all end. More importantly, I just want this to end. It's like an annoying chapter in the best of all novels. Where it sticks out at all ends, yet it's crucial. The entire cruz of the matter is embedded in that one single chapter. It defines everything. You don't want to read it because it's so annoying, yet plow on you most or the whole novel is lost in that sea of ignorance. I need this to end, now. I want to see it end. Better soon or I will lose my sanity.
I would like to follow this through to the bitter, bitter end. As bitter as the ink is black. As bitter as the ashes in the flame that have consumed us all. Someone spread a blanket of icy winter n it all. Someone soothe the destruction, please. If the end must be bitter, I would not want to go down it flames. I would at least like the scene to seem tranquil, even if the lines between are as bitter as anger on all sides.
1 common musings:
Life is most definitely a story, with different chapters that begin and that end, one ultimately ending with death. Doors are opened, doors are closed, and looking back at it, reading it all again, it's quite beautiful. You'll get through this. (:
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