Deviation Actions
Literature Text
So this is where we're at. We thought that it would disappear, we thought it would be brief, we thought that it would just “take a little time” when the truth was much different. What happened was a journey of self-discovery. It was a silent scream for help that resonated throughout the cavernous mind. It was an adventure through the darkest forest, the longest road, and the deepest ocean. Bloodshed, pain, scars, sorrows; we found a new meaning for these, meanings that others don't understand. They ask “How are you?” and “Are you okay?” and we want to scream it out, “No!” when all we do is nod and turn away. Our bodies were pushed, our will was tested, and our focus combated. We starved for food, or turned it away. We slept for days, or struggled to slumber. We aced our tests, or fought just to fill the circles.
When we face this past, we wonder if we’re crazy, insane, or simply foolish. We seek meaning in the fight, purpose in the despair, sense in the suffering; we wonder, “Is there hope?” And often we said no. We couldn't find the hope, we became helpless. Then it grew worse. Thoughts of the Grim, semblance of joy in the dark, the sad, the morbid, prevalent in our mood, our environment. But we didn't just think of death as an aesthetic, as a theme, some of us looked at it with deeper meaning. “Would I be missed?” and “My breath is better used by others” were not uncommon. Tower and bridges weren’t just architecture, blades weren’t just tools, pills weren’t just to heal the living, and guns weren’t just for defense. We saw jumps, cuts, doses, and bullets. Falling, blood, ease, and speed. Splat, stain, corpse, bang. Death, death, death, and death.
I look at these words, and I understand. I’m here, still traversing the darkest, longest, and deepest places of the heart, mind, and soul. Intervention in the most subtle of ways has saved me time and time again. I found someone, one person, to trust, and I just talked. It didn't make me better, but I knew that life meant something. There are times I still can’t see it, but I know it, and I know that each day I choose to live, is a day I made the right decision. I needed a reason to live. Anything at all. Having just one person tell me that they would miss me if I died, needed or wanted me in their life, was enough. If it wasn't enough, I can’t fully say I would still be here, but I know that if I could look back at my life after death, I would regret the one foolish decision. That ledge, the knife, that drug, that shot, would be the worst thing I would have done.
So this is where we're at. We might be stuck on repeat, a skipping record, a drama rerun, but as long as we don't reach the page that says “THE END, TURN TO PAGE 1 TO RESTART” then that means we’re still making the right choice. As to the end of this adventure, that choice is yours.
