Burial on the Presidio Banks
I remember a time where the only thing that consumed my thoughts was death… that I should die, be slain by some tragic misfortune — the sapling of an oak, cut short far from its time; long before it was ever given the chance to blossom and grow into a mighty figure, lifting its limbs high into the sky, stretching its leaves wide… well, oaks don’t have wide leaves but that’s beside the point.
I’ve come a long way since those days. I don’t wish such a fate upon myself anymore… I want to live, to love, to see the world, to marry and have children, to teach them and give them wonderful lives and be a wonderful parent, avoiding the same mistakes my parents made with me…
After I came to the conclusion I wouldn’t kill myself, I began to wonder, in those tortuous, scarring moments, how much more my mind could take. When would I break? When would I lose myself to the bitterness and anger which flowed in place of blood through my veins?
Again I wished for death. Not for myself, but for those around me… no, it wasn’t death I wished for, it was pain. I wanted them to know just how they made me feel… How else, though could I grant them this understanding? I figured I’d have to do something drastic, impulsive, in a frenzied state of mind when sanity had lost its value. I wanted so badly to lash out, to let the red in my vision be all there was between these hands which thirsted for blood and them…
Then years passed. Things got better.
But we humans, we never truly forget, do we? I still feel this beast, caged, tombed beneath the sands of my past.
But don’t worry. Every now and then it just likes to rattle its cage a bit… those bars will hold.
That doesn’t explain this useless rant. My apologies… goodbye.
