Tornado Meets a Volcano

I can't tell you what it really is

I can only tell you what it feels like

And right now it's a steel knife in my windpipe...

I'm trying.

I really am.

But this is more than difficult.

This hurts.

This is work I was not prepared to have to do.

This is unknown.

You read about this kind of situation.

Then look at the characters with pity and write the whole thing of because it will never happen to you.

I am so torn.

I don't know what is expected of me here.

My first instinct is to cut all ties and count the losses.

I don't need to be involved with this.

I avoid this.

This is beneath me.

On the other hand, this is now my life, like it or not.

This set of circumstances has been forced on me, and now I have to deal with it.

The only choice I have is how.

I want to be the strength that is necessary right now.

I want so badly to over look all of the deceit and the betrayal.

What I really want is not not sound like such a damn soap opera.

I want to swing and hit and kick and scream until my muscles give out.

I know what I would do if he were the casualty in this situation.

I would lie/cheat/beg/steal/maim to make everything better.

But, do I hold the same resolve when it's myself getting slaughtered?

Why wouldn't I?

Because it would mean the end of everything I hold in value.

Because a short time ago, I promised I would make those sacrifices.

I promised to protect him with my life.

...even if it is from himself.

Scars Remind Us That The Past Was Real

Trust is funny.

I mean, it's seemingly always there, unnoticed.

Until it's not.

Then, it becomes this immense, gaping hole where something critical used to be.

Suddenly, you find yourself looking around and wondering when the world started closing in on you.

And how such an event was able to trespass unnoticed.

And not only do you start to question the world in which you thought you knew, you begin to question yourself as well.

Am I really this daft?

I mean, is it really this easy to convince me of untruth, so much so that I would be willing to bet my life on something as unconcrete as words?

And then, the doubt spreads.

It invades the other aspects of your thought that you once held sacred, it infests the other areas that you thought were protected.

Worse of all, it makes a villain of the very thing that proved to you that trust is in fact, this fragile.

It takes all the evil of the uncertainty and darkness you are now shrouded in and reincarnates itself as something you once held in regard.

Only now, it has been defaced.

It has been disfigured. 

It has been ruined.

And nothing you do can reverse it.

Now, you either take it as it is, in it's less than state, or you leave it behind and remember what it used to be.

You chose to settle, or you chose to break.