Short Story – Barriers Within; Routed in truth.

Sometimes we cross barriers within ourselves, we see only that which we have built and then what truely lies behind it. Like any good story it is routed in a truth or thruths that we have long since forgotten because the human mind isn’t perfect. We do things, make choices that harness our mistakes to make us new , to let us suffer and unfold into a new being. Our core is our childhood, our morals and the people who matter the most; as these people leave or die parts of us do to. As our morals become changed or altered by the passage of time, of new people, of horrible circumstances thusly so do we because it is pain that lets us open our clouded eyes. To see what once was and what is now… here and now…  and it is certainly horrifying to face. We are not perfect but we are not meant to be, when we see our flaws we feel shamed, we feel unhinged and distraught with what we are or have become, this clashes with our inner selves. Sometimes we cannot grow past it, some will smother it with a new and brittle story only to be thrust out into the cold harsh light of their own reality. How sweet it could be to retouch that of what is lost, and burry the things we have done that conflict with our own unique morality. No two peoples morality is exactly the same,  nor is their smile or the essences of who we are.

It takes a long time to fully understand that this, this is no game. We are not pawns. We are people of our times, living history till it is time to return to the darkness. Perhaps reborn. 

I do not wish to slip into nothing without at least understanding it first. For I hate and love myself in perhaps unbalanced measure, yet my love for others eclipses that of myself. However, even I slip into some notion that I know it all. The trap of a teenagers mind, yet I am no teenager and I do know things but I am not all knowing. I stretch and reach out to my friends to hold them, to know their inner selves so I know my own. I look at my children and I see my past selves growing up before me in a new image. A new me split into two. So beautiful they are. 

I have seen myself many times. I have hated her, felt disgusted by her, I have made her feel like she was nothing. Nothing anyone would want. I tortured her into believing things that simply were not true. All because I did the right thing. I held myself accountable for circumstances that couldn’t be changed, because the pain was too much. Too strong to be forgotten or let go. The pain killed me and made me who I am now.

Morally I have done myself wrong and others have done worse. Logically my suffering has made me strong and wise with an endearing love to understand someone elses pain before that of my own. Their reasons or choices and what let them to that. 

Most people just need a hug. An embrace. But unfortunately in our need we are shunned or pushed out because of selfish reasons. Or what is unsaid. Or ill explained.

The mind should be helped. Not left to swim in living death. Not functioning or creating. Not feeling or emoting. Not being its best. 

We as humans need each other. 

And my story is only the start of that being… 

…my story is pain and loss and suffering and joy and love and passion. 

what is your truth?

what is your lie?

what is your core?

what have you done to yourself?

What is your story?   


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