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[axewieldingloverboy]

I will glance back as I leave.

[axewieldingloverboy]

Conversations with the past.

I wake up in a dream where I stand in a forest I used to spend time in, now nothing but wreckage. I am alone with my younger self who desperately clings to me and begs me not to leave. We stand amongst the rubble, ash floating in the dark skies. I push him to the ground, in a ruthless attempt to get him off of me, but he grabs my leg.

“We can’t go. You can’t leave. I’m not done here yet.” He pleads as he scrambles to drag me back into the destroyed woods that once stood so tall. It was much smaller, and weaker, than I remembered.

And I can’t seem to get him to understand that there’s nothing left for him here. I know I am doing nothing but betraying myself, but still I will attempt to walk away from the boy I once was. He sits defeated, watching me as I walk away.

“You can pretend to be kind, but look at you. Change all you want, but I’ll know what you are. I’ll know what you’ve done.” Venom and spark spew from his gnashing tongue. “You’re just like our father.”

I stop in my tracks at his words, and in one quick turn I make my way back over to him. Anger fills my body like a shot of rage being poured in through my veins, it moves me. As I stand tall over my younger self, sitting pathetically amongst the wreckage, I raise my fist.

But gently, I will grab his sore, tired body and embrace it in mine. He’s right. I am a bit too much like my father. But one thing time has taught me, is that I don’t have to be. So I will drag this boy by the underarms and I will take him with me. I will move on, even if he kicks, and claws, and screams. I will only respond in compassion and love, because I know. I know.

“There is nothing for you here, we need to let go,” I will plead with him through strained lungs as I continue to drag the fighting boy through the fragments of the past that shouldn’t have ever been.

“I can’t! God, don’t you see this is all we have left? Tell me now. Tell me what you have thats any better than these remains?” He argues. I’ve always argued, I’ve never known how frustrating the defiance was until now.

I drop him and he scrambles to his feet. I notice his stance, I know it to be the once I take when I am ready to fight. I’m far too tired to fight with the past, I know I cannot win, so I speak.

“I get to go to the park, and see families with their children. I get to see how lovely and innocent people can be. I get to play with puppy dogs, and sit peacefully under the sun. I get to make friends, and long-lasting memories. More than that, I get to be with the girl we love. And I get to live a painfully boring life with her. And it’s fantastic.”

I am taken back to the times my darling sat with me and helped me recover after I had gotten myself into many dangerous situations. I remember her scolding me, I remember her frustration. I understand her frustration now.

“You don’t get to love, but I do. You only get to survive this world, but I get to live in it. So you can make your choice, but I am not leaving without you. Put down your arms, and let me show you what it means to be at peace. There is no war, there is no enemy. Let’s learn to live.”

It is awfully quiet for a moment, I dig my heels into the ground, and so does he. It appears we are at a standstill, I’ve always been terribly stubborn, but I will not leave, I will take him with me no matter what it takes.

“You have been through too much.“ I speak again.

“I don’t know where to put all this anger.” He responds, his head turned down facing his mudded shoes.

“You let it go. Thats all you can do, is just make peace with it, and let it go.”

“What do I do when this is all Ive ever known?”

“Oh, but theres so much else to know, thats the beauty of life. When things crumble, you discover something new someplace else. And again, and again. You have opportunities to discover something wonderful every step forward you take. But there is nothing more here, so we need to move elsewhere now.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You didn’t really want to do half the things you did while this place was still standing. And yet blood stains your hands.”

There is only silence once again. Only a sniffle breaks the quiet as my younger self takes a deep breath in. The air around us weighs heavy.

“I’m sorry if I hurt anyone.” He says, his eyes still meeting the floor.

“I forgive you,” I respond sincerely as my hand grasps his. Both equally as calloused, both equally as toughened and stained.

And so we will make our way out of the destruction, and into the present. And I will show him the books I have gotten, and the writings I have created. I will show him how to make art. He will be shocked to know I haven’t touched substances in ages, and that our darling is still by our side through it all. And he will know now. He will know that life can be so wonderful, and that we are nothing like our father, and we have the potential to be something so much more.

My past is laid to rest as I wake up from my dream. The sun shines quietly through my window and I take a deep breath in. I don’t know if my future will be any easier, I know I have my fair share of issues, but I will make peace, and I will live. I owe it to him, to myself, to the boy I once was. And so I will live. I will live.

[axewieldingloverboy]

My life is spent at war with myself. I never seem to win.

[axewieldingloverboy]

I plead at his feet, “I can’t do this, I can’t, I can’t. Please, God, don’t make me do this, I can’t.” He kicks my teeth in and replies, “You’re going to have to.” I learn quickly there is no mercy here.

[axewieldingloverboy]

On the night you died, the man who took your life only said one thing. “Ive never known life until I took it.”

You’ve always wondered what he met. But being 6ft under now, it’s a lonely type of rage. When you’re dead, and your grave remains flowerless. Your only visitors are maggots that will eventually leave with the rot. You will give them all thats left of you, and once you become displeasing, they will move on. Or you will become fed up and claw at your coffin, crawl through the dirt.

When, or if, you reach the surface, it will be a breath of fresh air. You will be reminded of what it means to be alive, but you are not alive. Oh, no, you’re not alive in the slightest. Your skin is consumed, flaking and decayed and you are left nothing but a hollow shell of what was once a man.

You can pretend to be alive. You will learn to be good at pretending. But no matter how you dress yourself up, no matter the fresh skin you wear, people can sense you’re fundamentally different from them. An alarm of evolution that tells them there’s something not quite right. You aren’t like them. They are alive, and you have died. And they will find out that you have lied, and your act will no longer entertain the idea of life.

The so-called friends you have made will leave, or you will leave them, like the maggots that once gnawed at your decomposing body feasting on everything you had. And the world will still turn without you, and you will be angry. The words “Ive never known life until I took it” envelop your parasite-filled head. Maybe one day you’ll understand. You think you finally understand.

[axewieldingloverboy]

You can have my isolation. You can have the hate that it brings.

[axewieldingloverboy]

I need someone, something, but I look up to the sky and it is empty.

[axewieldingloverboy]

My grandmother tells me to seek forgiveness in God, for he loves me regardless of how bad I have been. I can’t imagine being forgiven, despite what she says. He is still God, and I still have blood on my hands.

[axewieldingloverboy]

You wash the blood from my hands, not looking in my eyes. You say my name again and again, in a tone of apology, a tone of forgiveness.

[axewieldingloverboy]

Oh, my dear, I am too well wrapped with tenderness for you. I love you, I do, like the yellow ash trees in autumn weather with falling leaves surely over a soft blue pond. Like wide wheat fields bordered with mighty oak trees swaying in the wind. Like everything on this meaningful green earth. I love you.

[axewieldingloverboy]

Divine punishment wraps my throat, squeezing the air from my lungs as I choke and beg for mercy. I stumble, bloody and a mess, to Gods feet asking his forgiveness. I know I will do it again, and again, and again. Forgiveness means nothing.

[axewieldingloverboy]

I think she’s beautiful, and I will write her letters pouring my heart through the pen. When she receives them, I will only get them back. My words are now corrected in red ink.

[axewieldingloverboy]

You can hate me, but we’re stuck together my dear. Who else swallow us and not choke?

[axewieldingloverboy]

And after the war ends, I sit with you and share a cigarette amongst the rubble. I crack a bad joke and you softly chuckle. Through all the destruction, all the death and suffering we have seen, your smile makes up for everything. When we move on to another world where the war is no more, I will be content doing laundry and taxes with you. I will be content making you smile with bad jokes in French cafes over coffee and books. I will be content living a normal life. I will be content being happy.

[axewieldingloverboy]

Living is bitter, its awful and horrible and suffocating but you’re alive, you’re alive and my god its incredible.

[axewieldingloverboy]

I have always been a fighter, I know the same to be true for you too. I’ve always loved that about you. Take your hand in mine and let us fight for a good life together. God knows we deserve it.

[axewieldingloverboy]

I write, you paint. I play piano, you’re learning guitar. Together we will love and learn the redemptive power of art. Together we will create, not destroy.