Unbroken

You know who you are.

I found that old book today. I found it nestled in the dark corners of my closet, amidst other forgotten and broken things from when I was a different person. At first, I held it, read the notes in it from all those people, happy for me and for my life. I held it lovingly, expecting some piece of that old me to come back, called by the warmth of those times. But the longer I held onto it and stared at it's lost companions on that shelf, the more I hated it. The more and more I wanted to rage at it. Where were those people then? Where were they when I screamed "Hold the line!" against the onslaught of the enemy, only to turn and realize I was the only one on the battlefield, facing an army of despair and drugs, rage and guilt and fear. Where were their broken promises and hypocritic words? Now, four years later, I am quite different. For a time, the enemy one, and I was not what people now know me as. I was a broken thing, a horrid and retched thing that preyed on people. But they found me again, in time, the leader they had abandoned. They tried to console me, make excuses. They tried to love me again, and I hated them. Now, I'm indifferent. I nod when I pass them, engage in small talk when there is no other way out. They know what they did, and how it affected me. I see it in their eyes when they see me, when they speak to me. A piece of their past they feel ashamed of, and wish to forget. But I stick around, to remind them of the horrible beings they were, to make sure they never do it again to anyone else. I no longer hate them, but neither do I forgive them.

Reviews

[MagicHearted Knight]

Damn man! You a freak'in amazing writer. The part about "holding the line", hit me square in the chest man and buried itself deep in my soul. I feel changed some how by being a part of this experience.

[Rachel DeHart]

:/
I'm sorry your day was bad.