The Final Battle ⚔️

 I Grow Tired.

    Longer and longer I go, the more tired I become. The constant battle, between what is meant to be, and what must be done, drains me. The battle between being who I wish to be and who I must become, over and over again. The fight against the very evil which is sent here to destroy myself and everyone that I love. I grow tired.

    The path which lies before us all will be a dark one. The challenges which we will face will be ones that will determine the outcome of humanity. The weight upon all our shoulders, as we venture deeper into the abyss, is one that cannot be ignored. Oh, how I wish I could ignore it. How I wish I could simply bury my head in the sand, and forget about it all together. To ignore all the world around me, and simply surround myself into the present moment. The task seems so simple, yet so difficult to achieve. The ability to truly dial in, and no longer allow the outside world to affect it. To block out all the noise, and simply focus on the task at hand. Something which I long for, something which I yearn beyond words.

    Louder and louder does the noise get. More and more difficult, does the world become. The future continues to look grim, with the odds and abilities to escape unharmed continue to shrink exponentially. Sometimes I wonder if all this worrying is even worth it, anymore. Perhaps accepting that things are finished, and simply embracing the chaos within should be the response.

    How does a man become who he wishes to be? How does he throw away all which he has worked for, his entire life, and simply embrace the death of the world he currently finds himself within? Perhaps I am holding on too hard. Too tightly, afraid to let go and see what the world is truly all about. Overall, the price of that which I find myself within is all-consuming. The life I currently lead, slowly killing me. Perhaps that is the sign that change is necessary. Perhaps that is the signal that whatever it is I am currently doing, simply does not work. One can only sit and wonder what awaits for me on the other side of the abyss, if only I have but the courage to cross it.

    Years have been spent, trying to perfect my chaos. Years have been dedicated, to better understanding what it is which drives me within. The time where I have surrendered all control and power of myself to the madness which burns, deep, deep within. The flame which refuses to be extinguished, as it continues to roar forward no matter the cost. And make no mistakes, my friends- the cost has been great. The cost has been all-consuming. The cost has literally brought me face to face with Death.

    Last year, I was convinced I would die. Something inside of me showed me a path which said I would no longer exist. I saw the end, and slowly waiting for it to take my life away from this world. Yet, after a full year of living in fear, after a full year of waiting for the tragedy to strike- it never did. At least, it never did in the physical world. My body still finds itself, waking up every single day. The world around me, continues to spin. Every single hour that which I find myself awake, is a gentle reminder of the promise which was never kept. The vows, which were broken. The fate, which seems to have narrowly missed its mark.

    Being alive and living are two very different things. I am not living. I have not had a life worth living, for years now. This disease, this weight, has been holding me under now for quite some time. The very fabric of which I find myself held within, slowly consuming me to the grave. Sometimes, I find myself wishing that the omen would have done its job. That life would have finally ceased, instead of simply dragging me along like a wounded pup. That I would be able to become the individual I was meant to be, instead of this half-alive human being. Oh, how the Creator is cruel, when he cast the stones which build who I am.

    Complaining won’t do much good. In fact, for arguments sake, it will probably do worse. The weight of which it will continue to share, will be the death of me. The distractions and chaos which it will bring, will not hep me escape this pit. Over and over again, I will find myself in the same hell, facing the same demons, until finally, I defeat them all the same. Until I finally cast off the rocks which are slowly me down, and reach for my blade. Until I finally drive my knife through the beasts’ heart, and looking him in the eyes which I drain him of his soul. There is no other way. There is no second chance. 

    Fighting for life is an oxymoron. One either fights for life, or kills for it. Fighting suggests simply going through the motions in order to tick off some imaginary box. The idea that the struggle is the true mark of success, and that winning is a 50/50 chance. Only those who are destined to lose, truly believe that. Killing for life, on the other hand, is the prime example. The example, that one must be willing to end the battle and drive their blade with a single stroke. That the action of dancing, back and forth, is nothing more than a struggle of which the culprit is willing to accept Death. 

For it is only once we are willing to kill those who seek to destroy us,

can we truly begin to live again.

        Glory Be,

                    Amen.