The Glow of a Dark Mountain Side

Miracle Boy

It was a night of glamour. A special night that held so much potential for everyone that came. It was painfully hard not to cry. When the time came to leave we walked outside and I finally felt like I could breath. Then with the lights of the city outside our forthcoming car we begin a journey between you and I alone. Desperate for somewhere to find comfort I retreated to a few simple words on a screen between me and a secret. That secret's life was not long lived. I had hurt you. Once the new learned knowledge sunk in, we drove. We drove in silence. We drove in darkness. I drove in fear. …where are we-where are we going-will he hurt me-what’s going to happen-what’s he going to do-will I be okay-will he be okay… To the mountains we went. What it would seem like in daylight would be much cheaper than what was endured in the dark. There is no way any human could prepare their mind for the endless possibilities that a capable man could do to a frail girl up there. We drove to the top. The lines across the cliff we rode could only be done by a frequent traveler. Then all at once, we stopped. With a blink you got up, got out, and got away from the car leaving me alone in the dark. In the silence. There were trillions of choices I had to make a great escape. But the only thought I followed was if you were safe. Barefoot in the dust I walked to where I could follow the sound of a broken character. I found a man on the edge of the rock past the verge of tears. I had never seen a stately man cry. 

“I lie a lot.   I lie to everybody.” 

The tone a voice makes when it’s only choice is to utter truth, even though it’s broken, has the power to break the strongest walls. You spoke the lines straight. Perfectly.

“I could stop now-if I wanted to. I don’t know why I’m doing this-I could stop…”
             “There’s no need to try on your own!” 

Broken-Hit-Complicated-Pushed enough to tilt a delicate scale to a signal side-Regret. But never a loss of courage. 

“No one knows I’m here. That guy driving on that road doesn't even know I’m up here. He’s got his own problems. I bet he’s thinking about them right now. I don’t know what they are. But he’s got them.” 

Balancing on the edge of a cliff was a boy with his face to the city lights. Sitting on the rock in a scarlet dress was a girl facing the darkness of a mountain side, yet she was face to face to the brightest glow within miles. In front of her was a boy giving so much he had forgotten how to take. When you spoke again you told of a home you’re anticipating. Lucky you have that. 

“You speak of home as if you know what that is you’re looking for, something familiar. You’re blessed to have that much.” 

“I honestly don’t know if people will understand how much I really care for them.” 

The presence of a smile doesn't take away the pain of a tear. When you cry you’re only letting go a heart ache from deep inside. No one wants to see another leave them. No one wants to be the reason why. Regret is our constant devil. Chasing us through our minds with no escape from sight. There are people we see every day and we will never have the chance to climb into their minds and find their devils for them. We only get the opportunity to find the miracles they offer us to see from their eye’s imagination. He gave me that. He gave me his sight. I saw the miracles he sees even if he himself will never accept them for the miracles they are. I will always owe that to him, to my miracle boy. 

“You can always count on me to love you.”
“And you will always see me right there beside you.”  

Inspiration for the Inspired

A Trophy Father's Trophy Daughter

Four years old, daddy’s little girl;
Trained to think there’s nobody else in the world.
Contrary to popular belief, trained is the correct word.

One day she turns seven and her father is sick, soon to be leaving her behind.
He packed his bags and got in his truck; not admitting the sickness was in his mind.

It’s a terrible story, none the less, and it’s far from over;
Now she’s eight and following him, along with her mother.
He is drinking alcohol, breaking his once important promises;
Not being reasonable, putting the bottle down, and certainly not being a role model.
Over and over again she heard him repeat these words:
"You’re the only one that matters, I’ll always be there for my daughter,"

She’s eleven now, they've moved again, she trusts no one.
She’s broken inside, nobody will listen, she’s just giving up.
Taken out of school, bullied so badly, starting to go numb;
Doesn't understand why she feels this way, why isn't she good enough?

Thirteen now, another new house, new school, new everything;
"Take a deep breath, it’s okay, you’ll live another day,"
So many ‘friends’, so many times she’s been betrayed;
No matter where she goes, she just ends up hated.
She pretends she’s okay, not that it matters;
Nobody asks, and attention isn't something she gathers.
The razor blade whispers her name at the beginning of seventh grade;
She doesn't tell anybody about her addiction, feeling she’s a disgrace.
Sometimes she wishes she had the courage to end her life.

Seventeen years old, now. I've lived through Hell and more.
I must admit it’s a miracle that I’m still here.
Just in three years I've had my heart broken in more ways than one;
Girlfriends, boyfriends, mother, father, best friends, and family..
The people that promised to never leave, they all ran out the door.
My father, my supposed Superman, my hero;
He’s never supported me like he promised.
When he found out I started cutting he said I should just kill myself;
"That’s what you’re trying for anyway, right?!"
Just last June my mother finally asked for a divorce,
He yelled, “You screwed over my family!”
"What family?" was my reply, then I hit the floor.

There’s no way possible I could tell of my constant battles with myself and father.
The constant I hate yous that have been screamed into my ears by my one and only, 

LOVING father since I was fifteen.

You want to know the story?

It’s writing like this that makes my boyfriend worry..

Since I was young I have not been good enough, not even for myself;

And just in the last couple of months I've decided that that needs to change.

My father has left me behind quite a few times, (Left Behind.)

But this time he’s not welcome back.

He’s tried a few times to get me back, to win me over;

That almost makes me a trophy, right? (Trophy Daughter.)

My father is a (Trophy Father) in the most sarcastic of ways.

I don’t think anything more needs to be said.

Inspiration for the Inspired

Kat's Poem

                                                                                    "I hate the way you talk to me

And the way you cut your hair
I hate the way you drive my car
I hate it when you stare

I hate your big dumb combat boots
And the way you read my mind
I hate you so much that it makes me sick
It even makes me rhyme

I hate the way you're always right
I hate it when you lie
I hate it when you make me laugh
Even worse when you make me cry

I hate the way you're not around
And the fact that you didn't call
But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you
Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all"

Yльтиматум

So a... hey. It's me. I've been thinking, of course, about what we said last night and there were many many out looks changed and decisions charged and now I'm left reconsidering everything I've ever concluded to be my new policy. Now I also know there are many people outside this personal event between us routing for each side of whether or not we will ever choose to be the same again. Some of those people might hate me now for even have saying this to you now, but, last night there was a moment between us were you scarred me beyond anything I've ever been scared of before. You became the dominate person and said that if I didn't put in any effort into becoming "normal" again, then you were going to give up too. At that moment I had no choice but to decide what I wanted. Right there, make my life long decision and go with it. That was hard, almost so hard that some how I still haven't decided. I can't do this. There is just too much conflict between myself that one huge part of me saying, "no stop this you want to have him in your life, don't throw every beautiful moment you've had with him away without a breath!" But there is the other part of me saying that this is enough. You can't do this to yourself anymore. Stop holding on to something that only hurts you. The battle is never ending. And the only thing that could manage to make a clear decision is him proving that holding on won't hurt anymore as much as it has. I need you. I can't live with myself tearing at my heart and mind. Remember when we talked about "fighting for something"? I just need to see it, I need to know that I can be valuable to someone that is willing to show it in a way that is uncomfortable or foreign to them. Oh, and on your front porch there is a jar. This jar was the jar you gave me on homecoming with the most beautiful flowers I had ever seen. In it there are the petals of the flowers, yellow, our favorite color, and purple, the color of my dress. Tied around it are the green and orange ribbon that came on the flowers that you gave to me to ask me to homecoming. You might notice that ring we got at the highland fling tied up with it. No ring has ever meant as much to me as this one. I really did wear it everyday since we got it, that is up until the day we "broke up". I had sworn to never wear it again after that day, although I did pull it out again for homecoming. Other than that, it has remained in a most special place. And know, although away from me, it will still be in a special place. It may just say my name on it, but to me, it has never said anything but my name and yours. Who knows if I'll ever see you again, but now I know all that I can say, has been heard. This is the part were I say good bye, I love you, but there is a part of me saying, thank you, and good bye. You may pick which ever you may want to hear.

Inspiration for the Inspired