How It Started

When there is no one left and when the room is more empty than you ever thought possible; when all else has failed you, and all that you held closely has unexpectedly slipped quickly through your fingers; when the sound is so quiet that all you hear is the high-pitched ring of nothingness, and when the room is so painfully still that time drags and seconds move like individual eternities; your thoughts are stuck  and your heart is broken, you’re numb and vacant like a hollow shell.
When the word “Hope” is more like an insult, —love is nothing but a fairy tale, your happily ever after has disintegrated before your very eyes, and all of your yesterday smiles were stolen from you; you can see all of what you had, but when reaching out to touch them, all has gone, and since the downfall is so new the things you want most are only inches beyond your reach.
When it all falls down and the mushroom cloud from the aftermath is still too violent to see anything at all, and lastly, when your only expression is sadness and a temporary smile is so fleeting and short-lived; you begin to wonder if anyone has ever died from a sadness like this one.

When the night falls and the bedroom clock shines its numbers on the nightstand, eyes are opened, fixated upon a flat ceiling which acts like a movie screen to an unstoppable imagination; you can see your thoughts, you can hear your memories, but all you feel is the lonesome awareness that your yesterday is gone.
Yesterday is gone and the fearful uncertainty of tomorrow is so sharp that it cuts you like a serrated knife through a piece of meat. You lay in thought, awake while the rest of the world sleeps, and all you wonder is how long is forever because you can’t conceive ever feeling any way other than this.

The moon is full. The streets are wet from a previous day’s rain and the colors from the streetlamps reflect against the blacktop pavement that pass in front of your side street home. Meanwhile, the glows of a bluish light from the streetlamps glisten in the dark with rainbow halos around them. You can hear your thoughts and the sound of them stabs at you like angry daggers; they taunt you, hurt you, and all you want to know is one thing.

“Why?”

You suddenly wonder if there is such a thing as fairness; because if there was then how could something like this happen. And you wonder if anyone has ever felt this way. Again, you wonder if anyone has ever died from the broken heart of a crashing dream. All you wanted was a slice of happiness. But now all you wonder is how long is forever because forever is a painfully long time to feel unhappy.

Am I right?

One day I woke up and decided that I wanted the rest of my life to begin right now. On that same morning, I decided to push myself away from the table; I stood up and walked away from all that held me back; whether it was people, places, or things, I chose to rid myself of any unnecessary burden. To put it simply:  I had more than I could stand, so I said, “When,” and that meant I had enough.

I have been thinking a lot about this lately. This is where I began to successfully rebuild my life. This is where I began my commitment. This is where I swore to take my life back and it began with a plan to write my thoughts on a daily basis.
It began with the idea that if I were to ever be a writer, then I would only write in a certain way. If humility means to be honest and modesty is simply the absence of pride, then let me write this way. Let me live this way and it all began here; and here is what led me to now; this is what led me to all that I have.

As I write to you, I will close my words from my office in the loft of a home that I never thought I would own. I write this in a life I never thought I could have and while living in a world I never thought would belong to me.

It all began by writing one simple poem.

And that poem is what led me to you

I love you . . .

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