My Future Was Never Set in Stone

May 24, 2017
 
I wrote out a prose
a fear, a wish, alone
well that was the fear...
 
Being alone.
 
Living alone, and well..
dying alone
 
"One day I am going to have a beautiful home somewhere the grass grows tall and the nights are alive with starlight. Snow capped mountains will be visible in the distance while the smell of flowers permeate throughout the fields."
 
It begins serenely
deceivingly peaceful  
pleasantly leading the reader
by the hand down the darkness
of my mind
 
For I am both Alice
and rabbit hole
 
But, four years later
this horrible future  
I feared would come to be
may not manifest after all
 
"As I pour another shot in my granite countered kitchen I will remember each and every single horrible thing I have done and said to others in my youth and regret each and every single one. Perhaps I will die with no one left to call my own.
 
I fear being alone."
 
This is how the prose ends
and it rends the reader's heart
as my fear arises in their chest
and-
 
My life has so much meaning now
more than what I thought possible
I followed the sound of hope
and found so much more  
beyond the walls of the prison
I called home but never was
 
In that shithole town
I escaped through desperation
clawing, tearing, and manipulating-
and no I don't regret the lengths
I took to survive
but I raised my hell, bid my time
and gave the ones who gave me dirt
nothing but their just desserts
 
I will not live alone,
nor will I be alone
and never will I die alone
 
I can have my cake
and I'll fucking eat it too