Unspoken Words.

The Art of Survival

A stab in the chest.

He felt like crying out in pain, in agony, in betrayal.

Like shouting to the heavens of the unfairness of it all.

Like falling to his knees, and giving up.

Pure torture.

Watching them leave him. One by one.

Once they had gone, it would take a hell of a lot to come back.

All his life he had trusted, he had hurt.

Red hot hammers used his head for practice.

Telling him that if no one wanted him, if no one needed him, he deserved to die.

Every day. Growing louder as each person left.

Friends. Family.

He tried hard to convince himself, that they were human, they made mistakes.

But the human race was selfish.

And so was he.

He would do as much as possible, to stop getting hurt, to stop the growing pain.

He would isolate himself, have as little to do with the outside world as possible.

But isolation brought another sickness.

It stopped the blood, but it tore is mind to shreds.

Misery.

With isolation came misery.

With misery came a strange desperation for freedom.

With freedom came hurt, and blood splattered the pages of his history once again.

It was a vicious cycle. It was his secret. It was his life.

Each day his head got lighter, his knees got weaker, but his determination got stronger.

Why should he crumble, just because his world was doing so?

Why should he fall because the sky couldn't stay above him?

Why should he sink to his knees because the voices in his head urged him to do so?

No.

He may stay in a circle of hopelessness.

He may lose himself in a cycle of sorrow.

He may live in a world with no comfort.

But he was as sure as hell going to keep walking.

Keeping his chin high, his eyes may not hold the sparks of hope, but they did hold the flames of determination.

And that was the key to his survival.
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Well guys..... Its 2018!!!! Happy New Year Everybody!! My gift to you is an extra extra special story,  so enjoy!!!!
Peace out,
~daughter-of-nemesis