Friday, February 15, 2013

The color of darkness



I wrote this in November when I had first done Naimoramo or something like that. But today it really kinda hit home today. So I thought I would show you a part of it that almost didn't make it in at all because I thought it was too much of my soul. But at this point, why not? So here it is, enjoy. 

I am the opposite:
                I never was the same as my brother and sister but then again they both came from different fathers you’d never expect it when we got together but when we were a part we were all night and day from one another. My brother was a stocky man with a cocked smile honey brown eyes with freckles and a bad attitude. My sister through a boxers build mangled to be sexy and not just sexy she was gantas sexy. Which meant she held herself with a sense of danger from both this world and the next. 

                She was a character my sister. She was dangerous in every way a person could be but that was our life.  She continued to be that way even when life let her have a way out. I never wanted to be a part of the danger that surrounded our family but I could always handle it if I needed it.  But she always seemed to need it no matter where she was. Always needed to have a leg up on the competition and be the strongest and fastest. I sometimes envied that about her. The strength and prowess she held within herself.

 A confidence that all women wish for but can’t find that was Rae. She was a force but with all negative energy she suffered from the back lash. That means she didn’t have the ability to shut any of it off and that made her not only dangerous unto herself but to others.  Especially those she loved.

                I understood her but she didn’t seem to understand herself and that I could understand up until a point. That breaking point is usually lashing out at me. At that point I get sick of it and push her away. It wasn’t a habit I regretted but one I needed until, like her I would lash out at others instead of those who truly deserved my anger.  Everyone usually looks at me like I’m nuts but I would rather fall on my sword than to be like her. She has too much darkness inside her. I don’t want to give in, ever to that type of darkness. I mourn for her soul but most importantly I mourn for her. I fear that she has lost her self in her own darkness and will never surface into the wild rose the world wished her to be. 

But none of us can be what the world intended for we are beyond the idea of our god but tortured with the incontinence that society reigns upon us . I feel  as if I am torn between these identies.  I know that I lie. And to be honest, I lie a lot but it is not incidents or facts I lie about. I lie through presentation. I smile the all American smile, say the all American words and I dance the all American dances. I write this to confess to the world that there is something behind my smile and an echo behind my giggle. 

When I was attending ISU I had the most impactful professor an aspiring writer could ever dream to have. He saw through the bullshit I slung so eagerly to hid the darkness or as he called the “other.” It made me wonder what half of the world I stood on. Was I in it, out of it or perhaps the “other”? Never a part of anything and always outside but connected to both.  Is that the truth? I didn’t have the darkness mystic of my sister nor the golden halo of my brother. 

But he was not always golden. He, like all of us carried our darkness. But it is a battlefield of the soul in which god’s war is waged. If not God, whatever you may believe in. Your soul is there even if you choose not to acknowledge it. I’m a jaded twenty something with no answers and even more confused than when I was six years old.

I feel as if I gave in to that darkness we were all born with, subjected to, I would become the darkness. Is it the fight that makes us who we are or is it the circumstances along with us that create our being?  I didn’t want to know or find out. I just simply wanted to be left alone. But I am never really left alone. I stand up when maybe I should just shut up and bear it. 

But something inside of me says no, enough, fuck you. I try my darnest to be normal and stand in line but I can’t. It’s like this switch in the back of my head that flips and I’m in warrior mode. With my gun in hand and fire in my eye I hunt down my sense of justice. Okay. Maybe there is no gun but I tend to charge blindly into battle whether the inner me wants to or not. It’s like watching an episode of America’s funniest home videos. It’s tragic really. Like most of my family that off switch is a hell of a bitch and someday I wish it would just disappear and be a normal. 

I wonder if it is like that for other people or if I am alone. Perhaps, I am just the opposite. I am the other.

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