Those who care for me wonder about my father. He's dead. I never met him, but my mother would tell me the story when she's high on painkillers. Overdose; runs in the family. My mother and I watched drugs consume her brother and father, and now her. For me, it is a different dosage of medications, or substances, one that is charging with emotions instead of ingestion, inhalation, or the poking of a needle. It's the crippling darkness, eating away at my soul, taking control of the weakest parts of me until being strong is no longer evident.
I know there is darkness in this world. I'm not ready to discover that vulnerable part of it yet, being at such a young age. No matter how much time I have to prepare myself, I'm never ready for the trauma I overcome every day. Silently living in self-pity, I don't want to be weak all the time! Instead, I try to smile and laugh and live in contentment. Pain can't be my life's destiny; I want to be happy, whatever that means.
As I grow older, the darkness fights harder for a spot on the surface of my heart. As I sit here, writing this, I understand that I'm in a position no one should be. Should I let it win? Summon the Evil back to hell? I never can. To do that, I have to find someone with thicker skin than I have. She was it. I found myself in her, but now she's gone, and I only have him.
The only difference between Evil and good is interpretation. Even evil matters in life can have good intentions, and the best lead to abomination. A human soul is dangerous; then you add the supernatural forces, enough to kill you, to save you, to break you, to make you. I have encountered levels of danger, meeting the most treacherous, a human. She is a heartless being with something beating in her chest. Clueless to her surroundings, she only wants what's best for herself. She is me.
In the end, no one is safe. The world is one big battle, between heaven and hell, good and evil. So drastic that I am not sure if I will be able to survive this. What exactly is this, though? These feelings and thoughts, are they a vision? A dream? I write out these questions to help me understand the answers.
I have visions sometimes before the bad things happen, squeezing my eyes shut, wondering why I am the one on the front line, sacrificing everything to win this battle. People say that the visions are a blessing, for God created me with this special gift. It is a curse. The devil has placed a curse on me. I would rather not see the horrors of life in the future yet live in the spectacle of today.
Born into a life full of sorrow, I am alive in the most dangerous galaxy with history frighteningly repeating itself. I want to believe that I can win this war, but I slowly lose faith with each day drawing closer to the end. God help us, please.