War Alone

She never did like peace much.  It was a nice reprieve but the real beauty was in the chaos.
When her pulse raced beneath her skin.
When her hair stood on end.
When her breaths came in quick succession.
When her vision sharpened and her hands were quick.
That was the moment she lived for.  In that moment, she felt quite acutely the reality of life and the pang of existence.  It was then that she was at her finest; when every instinct kicked in and instead of a clumsy mess, she was an instrument of pain and vengeance.

She felt the tingle in her spine and the knot in her stomach and let out a sharp, dark laugh.  They had made a terrible mistake, bringing this to her.  They would pay with their lives.

From every angle, came arrows, flying through the air, aimed for critical points.  They hardly mattered, she was a machine.  She was created for this.  Let them come.
But she wasn't fighting enemies, she realized as the fog of battle dispersed.  These were friends.  These were trusted faces.  The realization caught like a lump in her throat.  She stumbled, thrown by betrayal and a rouge arrow slit her arm open.

Letting out a pained, disturbing cry, she fought harder.  But her mind was whirling and her hands were sloppy.  For every two attacks she fended off, one caught her by surprise, nicking her somewhere, somehow.

The tears came as she realized how alone she was.  Rage, hurt, and anger buoyed her strength and she tore through their defenses.  Even if she won, she wouldn't have really won at all.  She wouldn't exit this one unscathed.  She was fighting this war alone.

Willingly Blinded

I am neither a pessimist nor an optimist.
My mood changes like the wind; it is never fixed.
But on days like today, when sadness and light mingle in equal parts of my soul, I can see it all.
I see the darkness and the hardness of the world.
But I can also see where the light seeps in.

Sometimes the light hits the right angle and shimmers in a rainbow of color over what we see.
It illuminates the right points, contours the right edges and brings focus to the right angles.
It makes the ugly a bit more beautiful.
It gives harshness the appearance of softness and makes everything more gentle.
It shines on the shadows and makes them less dense.
It shows a path of hope though an otherwise dismal forest of despair.

When the light shines in the dark, it's hard to focus on anything else.
It's hard to lose yourself in the blackness.
It's hard to look anywhere other than directly at the hope that blinds your eyes.
And maybe that's for the best.
Because in total darkness, there is no up or down.
There is no order or reason; there is only chaos and frantic fear.
I'd much rather blind myself on light than let the darkness blind me.

Paths

I am caught, flitting between two roads with no foresight of where they will lead.

I know one is dangerous.  

Full of peril and heartache but undoubtedly full of feeling.

The other is safe, bright, hopeful. 

The moment I decide to slip into trouble, the light shows up.

It calls to me with reason and stability, never wavering an inch.

But the itch for excitement nags at me, tempting me to stray for a moment.

The mystery is alluring but the light is warm.

My mind turns in unending circles trying to decipher right from wrong as they swirl together.

I ask but no one has an answer.

Their words are as twisted as my feelings, going back and forth; reaching no real end.

I am stuck and I am lost.

I fear tumbling down some unwanted path due to dizziness.

And sick to my stomach with incessant turning, I begin to fall.

Walking Into Fire

I am begging you to get away from the fire but you just keep walking farther away from me, closer to eminent destruction.  I can scream my throat raw but you won't listen.  You aren't willing to help yourself and there's nothing I can do from here. I just watch with teary eyes and cry for you to stop.

I've run into the fire too many times to save people who wanted to burn.  They never thanked me, they never wanted my help.  I was the one burned beyond recognition time and time again.  I have too much fear, too much pride, too much self-preservation to run in after you.  It's a shame, because you're the one I'm most scared to lose.

But you just keep going.  I try and reason with you and you counter my every move.  Always another reason why you're destined to die this way.  Why you can't be saved.  Why there's no hope.

It's infuriating.  Maddening.  Sickening.  And it makes me want to stop trying to help you.  If you could only see how dangerous this is.  If you could only hear how ridiculous you sound.  It seems so simple, stop and turn around, but you swear it's more than that.  Still, you don't even try.  You let the flames lick your shoes and bite your nose and I know there's not much time left.

It's all I can do to save myself.  I can do nothing for you.  You've resigned yourself to this fate, this destiny that was never intended for you.

I'm sorry I couldn't pull you out.  I'm sorry I'm too selfish to save you.  But in all fairness, you never tried to save yourself, and if you didn't want it, could any power on earth ever really change your mind?

Maybe she could have.  Maybe you just didn't want me to be the one to save you.  But I was the only one here.  Yet she was all you thought of as the flames took control.