Day One.... Challenges

i believe that life is full of challenges, unlike most who believe that life is full of change... doesn't the change present the challenge "to be, or not to be". in this space, at this time, i find myself looking for the happiness outside of my household, yet... comforting myself with the solace of words held hostage by paper dripping emotion hearts can feel ....

but the how, when, and what escape me completely... i need directions for my obsession, a route slaved to my teetering thoughts, a challenge...

Day 1 —Select a book at random in the room.  Find a novel or short story, copy down the last sentence and use this line as the first line of your new story. Random book : Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling

"As Hagrid had said, what would come, would come... and  he would have to meet it when it did". Regardless of the facts that remain the same, when time repeats itself in order to unkindly remind you of a past twice removed by memory, you have to face it.

  Hagrid knew better, knew that the future was both promised and uncertain, and most times unwilling to bend to the will of the human touch, but he would try, he would fight, he would give into the pressure of hope and pray for the obvious... A cure. A magical potion of a medicine to cure the incurable, loosen the grip of pain, wash over the damaged, and heal the ailing.

but is the fight possible or even plausible, when the doctor labels you terminal, and sends you home with four months to live attached with a diagnosis of CANCER....

what would come, would come... and somehow we all will have to meet it, when it does....

brokenSILENCE

proclamation of silence

i’ve been meaning to sit down and do this,

but i find myself questioning

the value,

the purpose,

and the significance of

saying what’s on my mind.

honestly no one is worthy enough to hear the pressure of silence once hearts break and dreams are shattered…

i wish i could pour it out,

label it,

store it somewhere in the hallway closet;

but the cuts are too deep to hide;

too painful to be bandaged.

but somehow… they manage to still bleed passion and breathe hope. i thought i wanted to tell this story but my vocal cords have grown cold, my fingers wilted and my conscience unwilling….there’s to much to lose, too less to gain but a story always needs a voice, needs an ending to match then meet a beginning.

a story needs characters, needs to peak in order to fall…a story needs a life, but i am fighting to dead the one buried under my chest cavity...

So where do I tell it?

What ears will hear?

What eyes will bare witness??????