Harsh Reality

There is no growth in your comfort zone, and no comfort in your growth zone.

Perhaps I did not speak clearly
And lost my meaning in the words
Isn’t it strange how we face life dearly
Not knowing just how much it hurts

I live on a farm. Most of you who are reading this post know that, because it’s something that I’ve talked about often. I knew that it would be hard and that it wouldn’t be something easily done.

You’d think I would have been able to prepare myself a little better and I thought I had. Especially after two and a half years and counting, but I wasn’t ready.

Not by a long shot.

I’m still not ready and I doubt I will ever reach the point where every single loss, no matter which type of animal, doesn’t cut into the strangely still soft heart I possess.

But if I didn’t keep trying, then I don’t think I would be able to keep going at all. Giving up, giving in, has never really been a part of my personality.

Well…

I’m not going to add it to my list of character traits now.

Because all of those that I have lost deserve better from me than just being memories that I run from.

(In other news, I have learned how to perform CPR on small mammals. It should be noted that if they aren’t revived within 10 minutes, it’s too late.

But that doesn’t mean it will always be too late.)

This small poem and accompanying ramble was brought to you by Dungeon Prompt: Defined by a Quote.

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Crushing weight in the back of my head

Not sure why it’s there

But it is

It’s always there

Always present

Waiting to strike

At the worst possible moment.

I’m tired

So tired

Why doesn’t this end?

So I snap

Everyone snaps

It happens when you’ve gone too long

So long

Too tired

Too much pain

All the time.

So I snapped

And then went off on my own

Just a moment to gather myself

Can’t let anyone see

Can’t let anyone else get bit.

Just a moment

Just a moment

Just a moment.

Why does it go on?

Instead…

Who says, who says you’re not worth it?
Who says you’re not perfect
Who says you’re the only one whose hurting
Trust me, that’s the price of beauty,
Who says you’re not pretty?
Who says you’re not beautiful?
Who says? –“Who Says” by Selena Gomez
 

Why were people so heartless? So eager to cast someone, anyone down into the dirt and mock them as they flung stones? Why did they only feel better about themselves when they were destroying someone else?

It didn’t always end in death. Oh no, it was far more fun if their victim lived on, that way they didn’t have to find another to trap in the entanglement of their chosen entertainment.

Even those that had once been in the dirt were eager enough to squash someone else beneath them so that they knew that, for all their pains, there was someone worse off.

What would it take to stop this cycle? To change it so that pulling someone up and out of the mud would make you feel better instead of shoving them back down in it.

Is it even worth it some days?

Only you, yourself, can know the answer. It’s not the same for everyone, because some people just need time away from it all to rest. To step back and do something else, worry about anything else, because they’ve been int he trenches so long, that they’re starting to forget that anything else ever existed in the first place, let alone that they can make it.

In the end all it takes is time. Time that you use yo out-stubborn, outlast and out-believe that your way is the correct way in the first place. Because there’s no other way to do it.

Not that I’ve seen.

This mini-rant was inspired first by a post from Oliana that I read today, Sense of Loss, but the rant isn’t just about what was contained in her post. It was further pushed out because of this week’s Three Word Wednesday prompt.

There are many, many, many different ways to hurt someone, to push them down.

If only we had more ways to pull them back up instead.

Healing Love

Hurts amass over time,
I‘d like to think that I more sturdy than most.
Don’t forget that you will always carry
Disaster hiding in plain sight.
Everything has to begin somewhere.
Now will you ignore your scars, or respect them?
 
How is it that you come along
Even when my pains not gone
And hold me safe inside your arms
Letting love heal all my harms.
Even when I shout and cry
Really you are my favorite guy.
 

She wasn’t quite sure how to feel so she just sat there, tears streaming silently down her face. The ring that had held a place of pride on her hand now sat in her hand, the cold of the metal seeming to dull the gem that had previously shined in delight.

The door to her room opened and the pitter-patter of feet moving softly over the carpet came to a halt by her bedside. A plate was placed gently on the end table and the bed dipped as an arm came up and around her shoulders.

She said nothing as a hand gently guided her face onto a stronger shoulder and she cried out her sorrows on the shoulder of her brother.

The pie on the plate sat a silent testament to how well he knew her heart.


Both parts inspired in equal parts from Light and Shade Challenge from yesterday and the Dungeon Prompt from last Thursday.

Trial of Strength – Thankful Thursday

Life is so very fragile,
One moment of heat too hot
And the mind is gone.
One lost breath
And the lungs do not inflate.
One missed heartbeat
And the powerful muscle stills.
 
Sanity is so very precarious,
Too much time alone
And you lose who you are.
Too much time surrounded
And you forget how to think.
Too much time in pain
And you forget there was anything else.
 
Family is so very strong
And yet, should it shatter…
There will be nothing left,
Pieces scattered across your life
Never will they fit again.
Sometime you may move on
But those cracks will ever remain.
 

I am so very grateful for my family as well as for all the hardships in health that I have had throughout my life. It is my trials that have taught me strength and my family that have helped me to survive and learn that it is possible to live no matter what is happening around me.

Make sure to check out the original Thankful Thursday.

Grief-stricken

She screamed out her anger, her rage and her grief.

The winds ripped around her, destroying whatever they could grasp in their wispy fingers and shredding anything that stood against them. Ice spiked out from her and were reduced to hard needles in the whirlwind.

She doesn’t look up to view the destruction she has caused, is causing. She doesn’t care.

In her arms lies her child, his eyes blank and his features slack.

Rigor mortis has not set in yet.


Written because when I’m tired and my head aches a certain way, this scene will not go away.

This was also written quite a bit ago and couldn’t decide if it would settle itself into my Former Guardian universe or not. It just sort of floats around my head from time to time and is incredibly depressing.