Do Not Go Gentle

Chapter 1

{ Rage, rage against the dying of the light. }
- Dylan Thomas

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I still want my life. I'll always remember; do not go gentle. Do not go gentle into that good night. I remember the words they said. Do not blame your wretchedness on the fallen butterflies and bumblebees. Do not wipe your fears on the foggy window pain, only to awake in the morning with regrets. I will remember those words they said.

But you see I have unwittingly spit upon the flowers gowing. I have drowned in the sea, and I do not wish to be saved. I do not want pain to heal my wounds because I do not trust in god enough to let them.

Yet I still pray, I still weep with my hands tied. I still know that I am unworthy. I still know that I am in pain, and I love it. It's keeping me alive... if only for a moment; because in that moment I can feel the blood rushing through me. In the moment of my suffering I can feel the wind galloping behind my ears... and I am happy. In my moments of pain, I remember who I am.

Just tiny scratch. Just small wound to feel alright again. Oh, how I would wish it could be that easy. If I could only be able to let the voices out... to watch them seep out of me in a drop of crimson I may be able to sleep through the night. If I could only let myself scar again in an attempt to remove the old ones that have been given to me. If only I could be the one to hurt myself instead of them.

But they will not hurt me any longer. They cannot hurt me any longer. Sebastian will not hurt me; and he will not let me hurt myself. Because of Sebastian I cannot fix myself. Because of this servant I cannot engrain my life into my skin. I want him to make me hurt. I want him to carve the pain of my life into my soul when he consumes it. I should not be afraid of him.

The sky outside my window is far too bright, and as I scan the cloudless blue with my work-drained eyes I remember what happened a month ago. I remember the feeling of his lips on my skin. I remember how it felt to be loved by him. I called out his name is a flurry of passion and seemingly forgot the next day.

Yes, I love him... but if he truly loved me too he would never stand up and walk away on my order. He would have at least spoken to me in a different tone... but he cannot. I told him not to. I am the one who told him to forget. I am the one keeping secrets.

It was foolish of me to ever trust him with my body... my mind... my soul. It is such a childish act to seek comfort in the one who is slated to end your life. It was foolish of me to succumb to such a dastardly thing as human emotion.

But I suppose this is what humans are, aren't we? We feast upon carcasses only to throw them into the gutter for others to eat, and wonder why the poor are sick. We blame each other for things we encounter as a whole. We despise humanity but we are humanity. I am humanity, and I do not want to be.

Each and every human I have laid eyes upon has broken promises... they all have been so blind and cruel. Yet this demon... this thing in which we are all taught to evade has become my beacon. He has become my hope and he is all I have. Darkness spills from him... yet without him I am nothing but human. So I must avoid the sunlight.

I draw my eyes from the light bursting through the glass down back to my work in front of me. This useless work that I endure day after day has become habit; a task I cannot avoid. It has become like my life; a meaningless drought. A habit forming through going through the motions, and now I realize the difference between living and being alive. I have been close to neither... for what other humans have done to me is irreversible.

"Young master, may I enter?"

A knock is heard at the door. I rub my temple with my forefinger and sigh, a knot forming in the back of my throat. My lungs constrict as I try to take a deeper breath, but to no avail.