All For More (Or Less)

When you escape the fact that no one is coming to save your life, and when you realize that your freedom can only be claimed by you, then you have no other choice but to save your own life.
You have to do this without exception.
And, if you are broken, then you are already broken. The only thing you can do is either get back up and start to repair yourself, or remain on the ground, lay still and become dust, or stay broken and be left behind.

I defy these things. I defy the points that I am broken or too far gone to the point where I am either broken and beyond repair.
I am hurt. I am delayed. I am slower than I’d like to be. But I am not dead. I defy the definitions that accuse me of being otherwise.
I defy the charges against me and the judges, the prosecutors and even the so-called innocent accusers can say what they will or banish me to hell.
But I defy this and I defy them too.
And I deny the innocence of those who knew full and well, yet, they find themselves in a different place or a different pattern of life; and, so, they assume they have rights above mine.
But no.
They have sins too.
I defy the accusations that I am a non-entity or unworthy and undeserving to get back up and recover my position in this life.
No one among us is able to say they are all so good or so innocent. And perhaps my crimes or sins are the same or different. However, accusers like to accuse because of how the crimes impacted them. Even if they have committed the same crimes and sins; somehow, they find themselves innocent of all charges. And I find that all too interesting.
I defy them
I defy all of this.
But then again, who cares because at night after the count and the lights go off, the guards patrol the prison and the demons love to whisper so they can keep me awake

We are all different in some ways. Our core might be the same whereas, you and I have heartbeats that need to thump and lungs that need to breathe.
Yet, our needs are unique.

I have already realized that just because someone has the same dream as me, this does not mean they have the same drive to achieve it, —and even if their drive has more intention than mine; dreams are not achieved by winning or losing.
Dreams are meant to be fought for,
This is not first come, first serve.
This is life.
Even if life is unfair, which it is.
Frequently . . .

Keep going.
Keep drilling.
Keep working.
Look for the angles.
Look for the moment.
Be persistent.
Be patient.
And remember, we have to realize that all things can, must, will and do change. Some things evolve. Other things move us in different directions. And so, this does not mean we have failed or that a dream did not come to fruition.
No, this means that time has adjusted our settings. We had to reevaluate our plans and make changes.
We deviate from the original ideas, and as we do, our visions change and if we are true to our hearts, then our intentions improve.
Or tenacity refuses to die because our mouths are whet with hunger and we thirst for our dreams.
We need this.
We need this more than air to breathe.

I have been tunneling my way out of this prison for longer than I care to mention. And yes, there are times when the guard dogs are chasing me or biting at my heels.
There are times when the warden makes an example out of me; and hence, I have to endure the ridicule and the humiliation. I have to swallow, and withstand pain, and the resistance that binds my spirit.
Steal a man’s smile and you have stolen his life.
I swear to you, this is true.

There are times when my arms and legs are far more tired than I can handle.
The aches of my labor make me question whether my tunnel to freedom is worthy of the effort.
There are times when the other inmates challenge me. The demons taunt me and the Beast laughs at me, with his famous line, “I told you so!”

Of course there are days like this.
There are many days like this. And there will always be days like this.
However, the cost of freedom is costly, —and therefore, I have to realize the risk and the rewards.
I never heard of anyone coming back to their prisons after freeing themselves from Purgatory, just to say, “It wasn’t worth it.” or, “I like it here better.”

I understand that pain is something that makes sense. And I understand that pain is more dependable than the unknown rewards to make us doubt if it’s worth the task to reach for the stars.
Of course, I understand this.

It was years ago when my Mother told me about her pain. She described the problems that came with her spinal diseases. Mom had five of them to be exact.
Mom explained that each doctor and each surgeon promised her that this time would be different. And each surgeon swore that this time would be better than the last.
She told me that she was tired of having hope. She told me she was afraid to let go of the pain because at least the pain made sense.
Mom understood why she was in pain—and there were days when yes, the pain was intolerable.
This is when the beast and the demon came along to have Mom sign on the dotted line. 

Hope came with different risks. And disappointment came with different levels of tragedy.

Mom explained that every doctor who said they could help her opened her up for more pain. Mom said this because it wasn’t just the pain that hurt her, —it was the absence of pain and the brief moment of relief, which tricked her, until the pain came back worse than before.

Mom told me, I can deal with the pain.
But what do I do if I let go of the pain and then the pain comes back?
Then what?
This was an entirely different kind of disappointment. And yes, this relates to me differently. I know.
My spine is, was, and will always be intact, —or at least, I hope so.

But pain manifests in different ways. There are pains that come with physical representations. Like a cut or a scratch. We know what they are and we understand why they hurt as bad as they do. A simple cut in the skin hurts but a broken bone hurts worse.
And we know this.
And there are aches which we can understand because they come with a physical touch.
However, emotional pains and disappointments trigger the same receptors in our mind, —but they have no physical definition. 

I used to refuse to smile or allow myself to enjoy the moment because what do I do when the moment is over and the pain or the depression comes back?
Why enjoy the love from someone else when love betrays you or otherwise, you find out their love was not real; and then what?
Be the fool?
Be abused?
Be hurt?


What do I do if I have hope and I fail again?
What do I do if I try to escape and the Beast brings me back to a hole that goes deeper? And what happens if my prison cell will only serve to be darker, —then what?

I cannot fade or fall or hurt anymore. I cannot give in and let the darkness overwhelm my spirit. I cannot serve my time and live without being alive until death comes over me and I die alive for the last time.

I remember when Mom said, “I don’t want to be in pain anymore, son.”
That hurt.
But at least I understood why . . .

Mom wanted to go free but the wardens in Mom’s Purgatory had other plans. Mom had her own demons, and she had her own sentence to complete.
We all do.
Her time in Purgatory was different from mine. And her prison was categorically different.
Same mindset. Different facilities.
But I am told the staff is just as unkind.

I do not want to die over and over again and fail to be reborn again the next day.

I want more.

Tomorrow marks another of my days of awe. This marks the anniversary of my Father, The Old Man’s death.
I told you about this.
My days of awe.
These are my special days of reflection that come between Christmas Eve and New Year’s Day

Either I free myself, or I choose to stay a prisoner and forgo my rights to fight back. Either I stay as I am or I dig harder, regardless of the pain, the guards, or regardless of the hell hounds who bite at my legs to keep me from running free.

I have seen things that have inspired me. Like the face of an angel and the body of a woman who has been in my heart for decades.

Will freedom be mine?
Will she be mine?
Will I have both?
I don’t know . . .
But I know the answer is definite if I choose to quit and refuse to dig my way out of here.

I caught a glimpse of the moonlight.
This was spectacular. . .

And do you know what?

So is she

(And yes, I do mean you!)