Post by Tyr Odinson on Jul 6, 2008 15:20:33 GMT -8
July 6th, 2007
Sunday
Sunday
Since when does a man become more than he is supposed or destined to be? A doctor once told me "write, it will calm the storm in your soul." How can a man who isn't me know what is going through my mind and soul? A calming agent? words? I have no other means by which to express myself, therefore ill choose to adapt to what that man believes to be the only cure for someone such as myself. I take that back. Its not my only cure, but one of two.
I have found another.
Yesterday morning i found myself approached by a girl in my alley, a person of high importance in public high school 259, my current learning facility, or school, if you will. She had come with hope for answers as to who i am, as to what i do. She got them, but not Quite in the fashion she expected. From the moment i stepped through the doors of that school, i swore that one day, i would hold the place of importance she holds. While that time seemed far and out of reach, i knew that within myself rested the ability to hold together a school that was being ripped apart at the seams. I challenged what i believed to be a man, only to find myself gazing into the eyes of a woman. A woman who had strength beyond my ability with fists.
Though she was, at first, quiet and self-preserved, meaning she didn't conversate with the public often. I asked for three days with her, to learn about her, to..well to do what even i don't know. She accepted, though i had to twist her arm to do so, and we met. A few days after, she followed me to that secluded place, and from there we went on a trip of discovery into each others past and present, as well as future.
She is now my girlfriend.
How such a thing happened, even i cant recall, all i know is that, for some unknown reason, i find myself caring for this person whom i long to strip of the power she holds. We have agreed to not discuss it with others, and for that i am grateful. I hope we get to see each other again soon, since what we have together seems to click. Only time will tell if that is true.
Since when does a man become more than he is supposed or destined to be? I am an assassin, and therefore my name will not be mentioned within these papers, nor the name of my girlfriend, in this or papers to come. I find myself low on much other work besides killing these days, and i don't see a need for much else work. My mind seems to drift, my thoughts lingering on those things that are now important to me, but before didn't seem to hold they're luster before. The things that i held in high value now seem rotten, twisted. I look to the heavens, always wondering if there is a god. My life, short as it has been, is filled with things of nightmares, terrors that haunt me with my waking eyes, screams that fill the void within myself.
I see the faces.
The tears.
The blood.
I've seen the terror on a stricken child's face
I have yet to see god strike me down on they're behalf. To me, he is nothing more than a thought, a dream thought up by men long ago to make up for that lack of something they felt within the world. Life is a matter of chance, luck, and skill. Five Million people die, every year, from the smoking of tobacco. Five million. Ten of thousands of murders happen every month. One person dies every eleven seconds. Where is the justice? Where is the compassion, mercy, and love? Within ourselves.
I see no god.
Just men.
Atei
-A
July 6th, 2008
