nero860
01-21-2012, 11:12 PM
Wednesday. It’s just a day like any other. Maybe you wear your uniform. Maybe you have tennis practice. Maybe today you get stabbed in the back. Maybe you go visit your grandparents. I’m not one for having a cold piece of steel slicing into my back, piercing through my ribs and nicking my heart though. Maybe it’s just this Wednesday.
Left, left, left right. A ROTC cadence is all that occupies my mind. I march from class to class, reciting this over and over. Left, left, left right. I look up. All I see are soulless corpses ignorantly hurrying to their meaningless classes from which the information they will have learned will be forgotten by the end of lunch. None look in my direction. I look back down. I realize that my combat boots need a good shining. I walk to the door leading to the dark and lonely ally behind the school that I take everyday home for lunch. I slowly (and soon regrettably) push the cold metal doors out of my way. A cold desert exhale cuts through my Burton jacket. The sun is hiding behind dark wicked clouds. They gently start to cry. I can feel their insignificant teardrops on my bare skin. It’s funny how ones such small tears can raise such wicked floods. And bring so much chaos. So much destruction. So many calamities. Something every ignorant mind takes for granted. Tears. Something I took for granted.
Half way down the dark demented ally I feel something crawling up my back. It feels like eyes. I turn around. I see nothing. I turn back and keep walking. It happens all the time, what makes this time any different? Maybe because I feel it again. I turn back around, and something rushes behind the one lonely dumpster. I was not fast enough to see what or who it was, so I foolishly shrug it off as a deformed fire haired cat. I continue marching. Left, left, left right. Suddenly I am knocked off my feet. I fall to the floor, not yet knowing what is different about this one Wednesday.
I keep my eyes closed. Someone/thing ripped off my backpack and went through my pockets vigorously. I am being mugged, I thought silently to myself. I peek, and see a 20 some odd year old lady ravaging through my back pack. Long oddly silky fiery red hair. So familiar. But why? Maybe because she was the homeless one in front of the gas station, begging me for mercy. Asking for a little pity. I walked ignorantly past her. I kept marching. Why should I help her, what makes her so damn special to just ask and not work for things in life? I thought as I marched past her. Those little things in life make a difference.
I try to get up, but I can’t move my right arm. What the hell is wrong here? Slowly a piercing pain starts rising up by back. Something in me. It’s between my ribs. Poking next to my heart. Cold, oh so cold. I can’t yell. I can’t scream. I can just lay. She sees me squirming and takes off running. An eye for an eye.
I can feel my blood leaving my body. The only reason I am familiar with this draining feeling is because ironically I was caring enough to donate blood. I am a hypocrite; I donate blood to save one from death but can’t spare change to save one from hunger. It’s these little things that make your life what it is.
Somehow I manage to flip myself over. Bad choice. The object pushed deeper into my chest. I feel light headed from the continuous loss of blood. I know in my heart that I am not going to make it out of this. I look up at the dark wicked clouds. For some reason unknown to me, I’m not afraid.
But through all the pain and dark hole I am drawn towards. I can still feel the not so insignificant teardrops on my face. For the first time in my life I can feel the tears, I can feel the breeze, I can see the clouds. It’s so amazing. So calming. I feel so alive. I am alive for the first time in my lie. I am alive.
Left, left, left right. A ROTC cadence is all that occupies my mind. I march from class to class, reciting this over and over. Left, left, left right. I look up. All I see are soulless corpses ignorantly hurrying to their meaningless classes from which the information they will have learned will be forgotten by the end of lunch. None look in my direction. I look back down. I realize that my combat boots need a good shining. I walk to the door leading to the dark and lonely ally behind the school that I take everyday home for lunch. I slowly (and soon regrettably) push the cold metal doors out of my way. A cold desert exhale cuts through my Burton jacket. The sun is hiding behind dark wicked clouds. They gently start to cry. I can feel their insignificant teardrops on my bare skin. It’s funny how ones such small tears can raise such wicked floods. And bring so much chaos. So much destruction. So many calamities. Something every ignorant mind takes for granted. Tears. Something I took for granted.
Half way down the dark demented ally I feel something crawling up my back. It feels like eyes. I turn around. I see nothing. I turn back and keep walking. It happens all the time, what makes this time any different? Maybe because I feel it again. I turn back around, and something rushes behind the one lonely dumpster. I was not fast enough to see what or who it was, so I foolishly shrug it off as a deformed fire haired cat. I continue marching. Left, left, left right. Suddenly I am knocked off my feet. I fall to the floor, not yet knowing what is different about this one Wednesday.
I keep my eyes closed. Someone/thing ripped off my backpack and went through my pockets vigorously. I am being mugged, I thought silently to myself. I peek, and see a 20 some odd year old lady ravaging through my back pack. Long oddly silky fiery red hair. So familiar. But why? Maybe because she was the homeless one in front of the gas station, begging me for mercy. Asking for a little pity. I walked ignorantly past her. I kept marching. Why should I help her, what makes her so damn special to just ask and not work for things in life? I thought as I marched past her. Those little things in life make a difference.
I try to get up, but I can’t move my right arm. What the hell is wrong here? Slowly a piercing pain starts rising up by back. Something in me. It’s between my ribs. Poking next to my heart. Cold, oh so cold. I can’t yell. I can’t scream. I can just lay. She sees me squirming and takes off running. An eye for an eye.
I can feel my blood leaving my body. The only reason I am familiar with this draining feeling is because ironically I was caring enough to donate blood. I am a hypocrite; I donate blood to save one from death but can’t spare change to save one from hunger. It’s these little things that make your life what it is.
Somehow I manage to flip myself over. Bad choice. The object pushed deeper into my chest. I feel light headed from the continuous loss of blood. I know in my heart that I am not going to make it out of this. I look up at the dark wicked clouds. For some reason unknown to me, I’m not afraid.
But through all the pain and dark hole I am drawn towards. I can still feel the not so insignificant teardrops on my face. For the first time in my life I can feel the tears, I can feel the breeze, I can see the clouds. It’s so amazing. So calming. I feel so alive. I am alive for the first time in my lie. I am alive.