"One day you will have to learn not to be the victim," She says it like it's something simple.
Like I've been through hell and walked out the other side.
Like I can dip my hands in holy water and call myself an angel.
But If I am an angel, I'm made of hell fire, burning up in tainted glory.
My halo's just a ghost, tied to me, furthest from the divine light it needs to survive.
I am not a victim, but I still carry the scars that prove that I was once before.
They'll fade but they're still there.
I'm not playing a card, I am just a piece on the game board.
Maybe I'm a Knight or a Pawn.
A King or a Queen.
Maybe I could call myself useful.
I know that you want more for me.
That the life I've made for myself isn't one you'd wish upon your worst enemy, but at least I'm alive.
For so long you told me, "just keep yourself alive."
but now I'm playing victim?
Now that I'm holding on to this rope that you handed me like it would solve all my problems if I just hold on tightly enough.
Like I'm not still dangling off this ledge with the promises of a brighter future.
There's still fire nipping at my heels and I'm not strong enough to pull myself up and over this ledge that yes... maybe I created myself.
But that doesn't mean that it isn't there.
That if I let go, I won't be consumed by this fire.
YOU ARE READING
The diary of Seth Alexander
Non-Fictionas the title suggests, this is legit going to be my diary. and yes, most diaries are supposed to be secret, but I have always been an open book. I like to pretend to be mysterious, but the people around me will all tell you that I am am someone who...
