Love's Naloxone Or Taking the Anti-love pill. Part Four - Running To The Edge Of The World

Walking in past the door the bag dropped with a rude sound as he quickly stripped down to his running shorts he wore under his pants. The house was dark and dead to the world as he like it and would only last a few hours, so time was short. He stumbled into the darkness as he found a warm, torn shirt, the one that he wore on day when the world seem it's heaviest. He made one more trip into the kitchen and filled a tall glass with ice until he lost a few pieces. They were not important now or ever. They will melt and evaporate before he would get up again.

Once at his desk he pulled at the latch in his drawer and pulled a small bottle he kept for these moments. He poured out the contents and choose one of each color, making note that he had to refill it soon when he head West. He placed them aside and pulled the bottle from the the desk and sealed up any evidence. He check the messages to be certain that the world had no use of him. Once satisfied, he took a long swallow from the clear liquid and popped both pills into his mouth. He had a few minutes and with an empty stomach he would be numb soon. Sitting in the dark, he stopped using the skill as a wave of pain overtook him and dropped him to his knees.

His eyes teared up as a wounded sound escaped his mouth. The sharpness of the sting radiated in his side as it burned deep within and exploded with each movement. He kept is mind open to it, chasing it trying to gauge it as it moved inside him as a serpent would suffocate it's meal. He counted slowly as it would rock him from his thoughts. He understood why a philosopher would never endure with any patience if they attempted to pull reason from life when the wound was too fresh. He knelt praying to no one as he wanted to prove to himself that he could. If he could endure it the day without relenting he could endure it now in the safety of no one. The warm tears lead to broken sobbing as each gasp of air inflicted it's lesson learned so early in his life. It was his best teacher. It's lesson never failed him.

The best lessons was earned with blood and pain.

Break all of their wings and make sure that it crashes

It was the greatest lesson he learned and mastered young in his life. It embodied Life and Death, Love and Hate, Reason and Chaos. A lesson that the young learned early or end up the meal of another. A lesson that endured the passing of time and would drive diversion and move the slow to adapt or die where they stood. He didn't want to believe in the lesson citing the protections of a cruel world as talismans and with some choice words would protect his with the support of arrogance and self importance. He was bold once and the bold often met the crashing wave that either humbled or killed us all. He refuted it. Nature had it's purpose and his destiny would not end oh so abruptly in any whimper least his story would remain untold. And yet, faith is a often a luxury that the well protected enjoyed without any reprimand and the broken often reached for to dull the reality of being crushed by the weight of the world.

God had nothing to do with it as much as the conversation had between himself and a few who were close enough to bleed him well enough.

If God crossed us we'd take all his drugs
Burn his money and his house down and wait for the fire to spread

The pain began to numb as he slowly return to his seat and honestly looked at the damage done. He was used to his injuries received. They were fewer now then they were in his youth. He knew that the odds were always against him and he would always be injured in one form or another. Pain was in no way a stranger to him in his youth he noted as he slowly traced scars too faded to tell their story. Something about his flaws or shortcomings that sought him in those moments that he would later beg for time to be taken back. He would rue many things then and would often cry silently into the night wondering where his path had lead him. To live an existence filled with it removed any stigma from it. As all nightmares are chased with the light, pain had a way to warp the mind and thicken the skin until the spirit gave up or the body understood it's workings. Earlier lessons made sense when life did not and pain can be controlled and adapted. A hand can caress or it can inflict pain.

After some time it didn't matter which it was. The schizophrenic's hold loosened enough to realize that a suicidal act would prove the coward. After a point a threat becomes nothing and the fearful finds solace in knowing nothing left to lose has been the driving force of every great movement. Cowards are disrobed and pushed into the fire and retribution given to an unsatisfactory wince as nothing is resolved from vengeance. Hatred only breeds abuse in one form or another. It always has.

Sometimes hate is not enough to turn this all to ashes

A curse can be made into blessing with enough resolve. With the price already paid and a skill learned in the moment of great need the weak learns to stand against whatever it may face. To remove pain is to remove fear. Without fear reckless abandon is as simple as batting an eye. Such a skill would change the meek to the vicious easily. Pipes are picked up and blood shed on dark streets. A nightly ritual that was engaged by him, he leaned how soon hypocrites are to be found when they promise unleashed hell. Fearless feel no pain. Painless lead from the point with bloodied fists and undaunted fury. And yet with each fallen on the ground it did not save him from the hell felt. Abuse spawn abuse.

Everyone turned their backs 'cause they knew
When we held on tight to each other
We were something fatal that fell into the wrong hands

His talent was backed by simple understanding that weakness was sought only to take advantage of. So many attempted to hide it in various manners as the lesson is expanded to understand that the weak is preyed and prayed upon. Weakness is shunned and is a means to bring another form of pain to another. As primitive as any drive, weakness in one allowed another to take any advantage a parasite may find. In understanding human relation, he soon leaned that everyone sough something from another in the principle gained. Love always seemed to be masked in some sort of mistrust and deception that masqueraded pain and weakness. Many clung to those who would hurt them only of some weak relation between power and abuse.

It was his time here he learned that if he could suffice in his self he would not play into such a hateful cycle. He did not want to another task master or to rule over anyone else. He could not understand if the system poisoned the mind or the mind corrupted the system, yet he knew that in various interactions that a romantic ideal as compassion was not only rare, but used as bait for a quick and ruthless hand. Principles of Love written in the suffering of the Hopeful for a moment of a future out of their grasp. As O'Brian remarked to a breaking Wilson, the Boot would continue to stomp forever. A parasitic relationship that was desired by both ends of the boot. A game of Master and Servant rather a coalition of Equals that still haunts his thoughts with those who refused to remove an abusive yolk for a unknown tomorrow for an existence of known suffering.

It still haunts him, those he had to let go. He could not save those who enslave themselves. What else can he do? A drowning man clings to his savior drowning them both unless the Boot is used once more. Voltaire and Rousseau understood that stars only shine in distances that will never be reached. It is best to mind one's own garden and to abandon all hope in freedom.

Sartre proved that "L'enfer, c'est les autres,"so could Peace be in one's own mind? Either way he would isolate himself and prevent hell from spreading.

We don't seek death, we seek destruction
Death, we seek destruction

Many years has past and the Lesson echos deeply within. After some sacrifice peace has been found and yet it is not promised as death is. It is fought for daily, with some days fill with anguish and shame and others with reckless abandon seeking old habits of self destruction. Some days are filled with others with his skill up and a mental barriers always up and protecting, seeking innuendo and a cruel spirit. Fewer days his defenses are not used in a small handful of companions with a secret security of knowing that they can always be replaced as he has been. The majority of days he attempts to find some good in his says, attempt kindness without anyone knowing his hand in play, and taking selfless action without remaining for an act of gratitude. Meaning less rules from worthless books have no purpose in bookshelves without some action behind. If the dream has ended for those awaken, must it be for those who remain asleep?

I had no choice to erase the debt of our families
Let you say goodbye with lips like dynamite

Hope must be fostered by those who have already paid the dreadful price.

His nature is to pull those close to him that he can reach. Guide others to what can be and to let them dream a little longer. Some find happiness in others while others find joy in shared experiences. They always make him wistfully miss what he may have had or what he could never. Isolation works best with a simplistic excuse to bow out in certain function. There are few moments where he craves the surroundings of others only to have them ripped apart by his own hands. He stopped attempting to find any resolution to his behavior. Solitude will always remain the safest of protection. He has already left many and many have left him. Sometimes a memory resurfaces bringing a pained smile with a quick remembrance of what ended it all.

Still for the best.

Remember when I took you up to the top of the hill
We had our knives drawn, they were as sharp as we were in love

He would sit in stupor until someone will arrive and question his injury. A shrug, abstract explanation and admittance of foolishness would end all insight as the subject is changed to something in greater need and the skill would be back up in use eliminating the pain better than any depressant could.

It's for the best, of course. It always will be best.

See a new beginning rise behind the sun
We could never catch up to them as fast as we run

His eyes closed again, recalling what he said.

"We have too much boy scout in us. That's the problem."