Promises to the End
The day after Christmas I walk outside and shivers shoot down my spine.
I haven't shaved in days. Nor have I left the warmth of my house. And it's cold out. I pull my jacket closer.
Outside it's dusk, the sun is setting, brilliant, orange. Getting colder. But it's not that fact that it's the end of December that gives me goosebumps. No, global warming's got that taken care of. I shake with the fact that after the peace of Christmas the war starts up again. My personal war. I'm sorry that it had to break for two days, to tell you the truth. Gave me a taste of freedom. Now what? The shots start back up, the offensive resumes. Engrained in me is the seige mentallity again, the one that I've built up to win this war. And win at any cost.
But I'm tired. Of all of it, this battle, this fight. It doesn't need to be, I tell myself. I should just submit.
"Submit? And then what?"
Lose. The losers life isn't the hard life. You're out of the play-offs and on vacation. The easy life. Sure, no glory, but sleep. And sleep is so hard to come by. But I've committed myself. And as I walk out the shiver ripples through me. The ghost of the past that is about to reap havoc on me once again. The ghost of the future that is about to pick off my emotions one by one until I break. Then the ghost of the present: panic, chaos.
I'm running the vanguard, hard and straight and with the same force that a thousand Zenidine Zidanes or Genghis Khans have. Sheer, absolout, fervor.
But the days are colder and will get colder. Where's the global warming in my life?
I still can't get away from my past, no, not after everything. The dreams are starting up again, more lucid, again. And my destiny is ever present. It's a hard thing to realize, that you've been destined for something and must fulfill it. It's something you can't let go. Me? My destiny is not letting go.
I made a promise years ago.
"If you give me the power, I will use it for you."
The hero? The villian?
I'll be both, and the ghosts will let me know that.
"If you give me the power, I WILL use it for you."
I wonder if whatever ghosts are left up there still remember.
I haven't shaved in days. Nor have I left the warmth of my house. And it's cold out. I pull my jacket closer.
Outside it's dusk, the sun is setting, brilliant, orange. Getting colder. But it's not that fact that it's the end of December that gives me goosebumps. No, global warming's got that taken care of. I shake with the fact that after the peace of Christmas the war starts up again. My personal war. I'm sorry that it had to break for two days, to tell you the truth. Gave me a taste of freedom. Now what? The shots start back up, the offensive resumes. Engrained in me is the seige mentallity again, the one that I've built up to win this war. And win at any cost.
But I'm tired. Of all of it, this battle, this fight. It doesn't need to be, I tell myself. I should just submit.
"Submit? And then what?"
Lose. The losers life isn't the hard life. You're out of the play-offs and on vacation. The easy life. Sure, no glory, but sleep. And sleep is so hard to come by. But I've committed myself. And as I walk out the shiver ripples through me. The ghost of the past that is about to reap havoc on me once again. The ghost of the future that is about to pick off my emotions one by one until I break. Then the ghost of the present: panic, chaos.
I'm running the vanguard, hard and straight and with the same force that a thousand Zenidine Zidanes or Genghis Khans have. Sheer, absolout, fervor.
But the days are colder and will get colder. Where's the global warming in my life?
I still can't get away from my past, no, not after everything. The dreams are starting up again, more lucid, again. And my destiny is ever present. It's a hard thing to realize, that you've been destined for something and must fulfill it. It's something you can't let go. Me? My destiny is not letting go.
I made a promise years ago.
"If you give me the power, I will use it for you."
The hero? The villian?
I'll be both, and the ghosts will let me know that.
"If you give me the power, I WILL use it for you."
I wonder if whatever ghosts are left up there still remember.
posted by Chris Miles at 2:25 AM
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