Pile of Ashes

Sometimes you can see the cracks expanding further and further, you can try saving it – tapes, glue and some other ways you can try to hold 'em together. But don’t we all know broken cracks can’t be mend. it jus' a matter of time a tiny sound can shatter everything into pieces. We already know that but are we ready to accept it?

Sometimes when bigger logs are drowned into the stormy ocean we try to hold on to the tiny debris without realizing its not enough to survive or even provide a moment of relief to catch a breath. Desperate to survive we try and try but dear reader Hope’s a bitch. Sooner you realize sooner you can let go and move on to evident solution.

Well I don’t know how to get hold on to anything even yourself when you're standing at the epicenter and witness everything crumbling around you fragment by fragment, maybe you pick up the pieces and mourn for the half burnt memoirs. Its good to be ignorant and blackout the aftermath from your mind but at certain point when you wake up from a dream of beautiful picture perfect house you once lived in and notice in actuality you’re standing on a pile of ashes, you got to know there is nothing you can do other than walking away. It hurts like hell, it does never denying it. I lost count how many time I have turned around hoping to catch a glimpse of the past and again being captured lost in my own hallucination of perfection. But for once I need to accept to myself that dream is not real. It could have been, maybe. But right now it’s not. Isn’t living a life of actuality and making something of it, is more worthwhile than drugged over an unreal sweet fantasy?

Today am look around ashes laying in its blackness, I see my beautiful house, picture perfect, every little piece put together with love and hope. Something that was comforting to me in my darkest nights and bitter days. It’s so hard to let go but once I open my eyes, I see its tainted. And believe me am no saint, I want to hurt the people who are responsible for crashing my world into irreparable mess. But jus’ before I press that final button to destroy a fraction of their lives, I fumble.

Does it worth it? I ask. Maybe I will feel good, I don’t know until I really witness their downfall. Or maybe I will be stuck at the same place I was yesterday – tormented and now polluted with their crudeness. Ain’t am already? I ask myself, they’ve brought out the ugliest in me, array of monsters I didn’t even know exist within. I wish I would suffered a multi-personality disorder, ‘coz facing my reflection and recalling my sins only bring shame and anguish. Wounds I already suffered are excruciating enough but now I endured the pain of never ending flashbacks of monstrous ignominy I rained upon my loved one and the agony and distress of such guilt is far too much to carry.

I can pour myself something that makes my head numb but with every sip I ask for how long. Tomorrow when I wake up, I will be here facing same demons, fighting the same battles. Saddest of all when you have lost your ground among your own, there's no fight left but to surrender to the abuses of outside enemy. And after losing a million such battles what's left are debris not enough to bear the weight of a survivor.

Survived? Am not standing at a cross road, I don’t have choices but I do need to accept the reality and reality lives in ashes circling around me. Leaving those memories behind will take several turning back and being lost in remembrance from time to time. Some say moving on brings new beginning, I don’t know if it’s for good. But whatever it is, isn’t it long overdue?