I do hope that life is meant to be beautiful. For me, though it may not be apparent, it has been a struggle and at times very dark. I want it to be beautiful. I want it to have happiness. I want it to be gentle and kind. I do not want strife. So, I am working on smoothing some of my rougher edges and increasing my tolerance. I am doing this so that life can seem more beautiful, and less like a war. I do get angry when people assume they know me or what it is like to be me, as if it is easy, as if I don't know what it is like to stare into the face of an abyss. I do know. I don't wish to agonize over the depravity, hate and struggle in this world anymore then I have to. I hate arguing. I just want to be.
Disconnect
The voice on the phone was familiar to him and still talking, but he had stopped listening several minutes ago. She obviously didn't realize this because the cadence did not change. He was far away, floating somewhere far above where he lay sprawled on the floor, his tense hand still clutching the cold receiver in some sort of karate death grip. His breaths were slow and shallow, his body motionless, and from the vacant look in his eye, one might mistake him for dead and gone. But Eddie was very much alive on a physical level, even if emotionally he was numb. He could still hear her words in the distance. He didn't really need to hear them. He knew what the message was. In some sense he had seen this coming. He never acknowledged it, of course, but the gnawing dread, the feeling of falling, had been there in the background for quite some time. The words themselves were unimportant and expected, words like "time", "space", and "different". Yet s...

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