One step

One step is all it takes to end it all.

One step is needed to finally fall.

One step is sometimes wanted to be done with it all.

At times that final step may seem like the scariest of things where everything is going to end, but

But sometimes that final step is not your last but your first.

One step can be the start of something new.

One step can be the reawakening that is needed.

One step can be your wake up call that there is something worth living for.

   Recently I had a (typed) conversation with my closest friend. It started with simple teen things and I'm still not sure how, but I must have written something about my mother, because she was asking me about why I don't like talking to her. Which made me think of this place, because just the other day I had written a post kind of explaining that answer. I debated with myself for a few minutes should I share this with her. After all I've literally dumped all of my past thoughts on to here and most of them aren't very pretty, but this is the person who I would call if I was dieing! I would leave my final words to her, so why not allow her a look into my head? So I gathered the small bit of courage I had and wrote. I wrote a small explanation telling her what it was that I was giving her and as soon as I hit the send button I logged off and tried to keep my thoughts away from what I'd just done. I debated going back on and deleting the post why should I put this on my friends shoulders? She has enough baggage, she doesn't need anymore. I kept it though and throughout the next day her reply was constantly on my mind. What would she say? How will she think of me now? Will this be the end of our friendship? I kept think 'God, I'm so stupid I ruined it. This is over.' Finally in the evening I checked for her reply and a weight lifted off of me. My shoulders literally sagged with relief when I found out that she was thanking me. It wasn't till a few days later after conversing with each other everyday, about ourselves, my posts, and her just recently started blog. That I noticed we were closer then before. I'd just realized we had a lot more in common emotionally then I had previously thought. It was a big eye opener for me, because it made me realize a few things. One my friend was hurting just as much as me, I'm not alone in my feelings of despair and sadness. Two I wasn't as alone as I'd originally thought.

   Opening myself up like that was the scariest thing in the world and something I don't want to repeat anytime soon or ever really, but because of it my day has become just a bit more bearable. After reading her replies it made me see a bit differently. I know I'm a pawn. That's what I've been thinking for over a year. It makes sense to me, because not everyone can be kings, queens or knights in shining armor. I was fine with this and still am, but Morgan put a little bit of color in my black pawn theory. Her exact words were "Also: you may just be a pawn, or you could be a queen. Whatever piece you play, no matter how many pieces you have on your side, you can always turn the game around. You will always have me." These words made me remember that if a pawn is taken across the board they do indeed become a queen. This also had me running downstairs to get my fall jacket and going through it's pockets. Where I extracted an old wooden chess piece- a pawn. I don't remember exactly when I found the pawn, just that I was coming back from school and picked it up without even thinking about it. From then on I carried it in my jacket, just to remind myself not to get too confident, too cocky. To remind me that I'm just a chess piece waiting to be used. This upset me, but it was the truth. There are so many people out there in the world and that means not everybody can be the best. Not everyone can be kings and queens, but that doesn't mean we can't try. So this is my new theory- Everyone starts off as pawns, because without them there is no challenge, no game. That doesn't mean a pawn can't become a queen, knight, tower or bishop. They just have to work hard to get across the board to reach that goal. So for now I'm a pawn, getting in the way of my enemies, making sure I help my team, keeping life interesting for others while I slowly make my way across the board to see what I become. To make sure I don't forget this theory my black pawn now has a 'Q' carved on it's bottom.

   My friend said a few more things that made me change my views of myself and those around me. Ever since I left my brother I've kept minimal contact with him and was thinking about almost completely cutting ties with him. Morgan made me realize how stupid of an idea that would be. I found out that the reason for my existence are two people. Two people that I love and care for deeply. My last post was that of my lost virtues. My empty existence. This was brought to my attention after reading and discussing the drama "Kordian." I found that I could relate to the character very closely and on closer inspection I found the two of us very similar. Our biggest difference Kordian followed his emotions to a fault, while I half the time don't understand my emotions and tend to pick at them in curiosity. We both lost our virtues and found it difficult to move on, but in the end we both found something to keep us moving, For Kordian it was his home country which was taken over and split into three. Therefore it didn't exist, except in the heart and minds of it's once citizens. He made it his goal to help bring it back. While my goal is to live for my brother and sister. I know it's not something that will get me through my whole life, for eventually we will all drift apart, but for now it helps me wake up in the morning. I wrote there letters on my hands, the area where the thumb meets the hand to be exact, on my left hand there is a capital E while my right has a capital M. It's a good thing I did it, because I've caught myself countless times thinking terrible things about myself and then I glance at my hands and Morgans words come to mind specifically "One more thing, about your best not being good enough: it just has to be good enough for you." Thanks to them and her words I'm a bit more content then I once was. I look at the world in a lighter tone and after calling my brother and hearing the happiness in his voice I know that at this moment my life isn't awe full or terrible. My existence isn't worthless or pointless. I have a reason to get up and move forward to keep the fog from surrounding me completely again. All because I opened myself up to a dear friend of mine. Now I've taken my first step and I don't know where it will lead me, but for now I don't mind, because I'm going to focus on those single steps of mine.

Maybe I'll see you around.

Where am I going?

   It's grey. Everywhere I look I see grey. Any shade of grey you can imagine and it'll be there floating innocently as if it's done nothing wrong. Though it's true I can't help, but glare at the grey abyss before me. The complete unknown before my eyes is- my life. That's what I see when I look to my future, however short it may be, and can't help but look for some small light. A glimpse to at least give me a reason to continue on with this pointless existence of mine. I do not wish for hope, for hope is what destroys people. I already had to go through it once and I am no longer looking towards some bright glowing light promising false happiness. No, what I look for is a reason as to why I am here. Before I lived for my family and friends. I valued school and what I learned there- I used to be happy, but now, now I'm not so sure. Three years ago my family moved to a different continent. Where they spoke a different language that I could barely grasp. My dad had already moved here a year earlier, so my brother and I lived with just my mother for a year until we finally moved. Though my mom stayed behind and we lived with just my father for a good six months or so. When I moved I left behind my closest friend. We were practically sisters in all but blood. I was fine for about two months before it finally hit- I had left her behind. We've kept in contact though it isn't the same as seeing each other every day. I lost one virtue of life, which left me with two.

   School started before my mother arrived. The first month was tense. It was difficult adapting to a new school with a different system, language and culture. It didn't help that my classmates avoided me like the plague. My first month of school was filled with stress over plenty of failed or barely passed test, sleepless nights and sadness. Though I stayed strong in front of my parents I would occasionally cry at night. When my mother arrived I'd gotten use to the pointless work load. Halfway through the year the school psychologist called me and my mother into her office. She claimed that if I wasn't taken from the school soon I'd commit suicide. That broke me and I hate to admit it, but I gave her the satisfaction of showing desperation on my face and crying. Later I realized the whole thing was a plot to get me out of the school. Apparently I was lowering the schools grade average, tarnishing there high record. Bunch of pompous arses they all were. This is where I lost my belief in school. In my three years there I learned that most of the teachers cared about the schools reputation then the students or their checks. Once I'd transferred schools I gave up. Those two years showed me that I'm not A average student, but a C average one. I learned that not everyone can be at the top, that's why there are more pawns then knights in chess. I'm just another pawn waiting to be sacrificed so that someone else can get to the queen. 

   After that talk with the psychologist my mother took a turn for the worst, but it didn't really show until about a year and a half ago. Whenever my mother drank even if it was just a glass of wine she would get emotional or violent. She never hit my brother and me, but she'd try to take it out on my father. Who in turn would run into my room so he wouldn't be blamed for hitting her. One night it was so bad that my brother, father and I all sat in my room while my mother banged on the door yelling at us. She hated it here. This wasn't a surprise. I knew from the moment we left the schools shrink that something had changed. I was just waiting for the bomb to drop. Two months after that incident my mother took me for ice cream and told me she was leaving. I wasn't surprised, but I listened and nodded at all the right parts told her I understood and wasn't angry at her. That I still loved her and all that mushy junk. It was me who gave her that final push to leave and I hate to say it, but I was happy when she said she was leaving. At that point I wanted my mother to be happy and so I let her go. My father and I dropped her off at the aeroport one early saturday morning and I had a few tears in my eye's, but that was it. Those were the last tears I ever shed for my mother. We all adjusted quickly to life without her. It was peaceful maybe at times a bit hectic, but I was content for the first time in months and I think my brother was too. We kept in contact with my mother, calling her once a week and writing emails. I used to enjoy our talks together, they could last up to an hour sometimes. Now they barely last ten minutes. Life was going well my brother and I grew closer then ever before, which was strange because we had always been close. We'd become siblings and friends. Writing this I realize my brother had become my world. My center. I lived to talk, play, argue and spend time with him.

   For months we lived like this spending time together, annoying each other. We got to know each other inside and out. Knew how to push each others buttons- everything really. That summer my father bought us tickets to the states to see our mother. That's when the stress started again. The constant badgering to stay with my mother. My grandmothers pleas to not leave her. Then one day in July my mother came to my brother and told him he was staying with her whether he wanted to or not. I still remember the talk we had when he got back. We were on the swings at the park and my brother broke down saying he didn't want to leave me. I told him I'd try to figure something out and when we were in visiting my aunt I gave an empty promise saying that I'd take him back with me. But it was just a lie. Broken words on helpless ears. I gave him false hope. I still hate myself for that. It's cruel, because I still remember my exact words "I'll fight tooth and nail to get you to come back." All a lie, for by the time we got back I had no fight left in me. We were literally glued to each others sides by then, but soon my brother started school and I asked to leave early. At the airport I was dropped off by my mother, grandmother, her friends and brother. I first said goodbye to my grandmother, she handed me an envelop after. I tore it into pieces after reading it's contents later. Then my mother. She like grandmother were crying and I can still hear the words she whispered into my ears when we hugged goodbye, "why are you so cold?" I was stoned face during our exchange just like with my grandmother. I turned my back to them when saying my goodbye with my brother. We didn't say anything touching I could only muster a "see you later kid," while he nodded. I messed up his hair and turned to leave, before he said "why don't you kick me one last time? Just for fun." I just gave him a somber smile and right then almost teared up, but I shook my head waved goodbye then turned my back on half of my family. This is where my last virtue was killed, by me. 

   This is where I realized my family virtue had become my brother. Every since we were little we had been together. My parents would often send us to Europe to visit my dads Grandparents for the whole summer. During that time we were without my parent's and we got used to being without both of or one of them. So the split we're facing now is painful for me and for him. I've heard from my mother that He has day's were he's quiet, sad and depressed. Mother claims he misses the time when we all lived together in our old home. I think he just misses his father and sister. While my father has told me that there have been times where my brother would break down crying and ask him to call back in ten minutes or so. I think it's painful for him and though I can only speculate I think he misses me just as much as I miss him. We never mention these feelings though. When we talk, which is rare, we stay to safe topics such as school and free time. When we were on vacation people would comment about how well we got along or how close we were. I thought nothing of it, because for me it was natural to treat my brother as an equal. In the spam of three years we had become each others best friends. Now sitting alone in this empty house knowing that the dusty room across from mine is empty- it hurts. What hurts more thought is the fact that I am causing the same pain for my brother. I hurt him, deeply. Abandoned him and I don't know when I'll see him again. If I'm lucky it'll be in two years time, but I doubt it. What's even worse is that in that time we could just become two strangers. The only thing connecting us would be our blood. It hurts knowing something like this will probably happen and even though I still love my brother and will do anything for him. He will grow and he will forget, because despite his maturity he is still a young teen. 

   Now my virtues are all gone! One abandoned, one shattered and one taken away. So tell me now how do I go on? What is the point of me floating here endlessly without rhyme or reason? My chest hurts and my mind aches. I'm tired of all of this pointless breathing. My life is a routine that I live by which is slowly driving me insane. I get up, go to school, come home, eat dinner, tutor comes, tutor goes, homework, training, sleep. That is literally my day everyday. With a few small exceptions, but living that week by week. It's killing me and I don't know what to do about it. I can set a goal to strive towards, but why bother when even though I do my best, my best just isn't good enough. I sit here pouring my dirty soul out and wonder why I don't just end myself now? The only thing stopping me is my father. He would break if I suddenly disappeared. He wouldn't understand what is wrong, why I did it. My father and I talk a lot, but I don't tell him everything. So here I sit and contemplate what do I do now? One of the most annoying things though is the fact that despite all these emotions swirling through me nothing is seen on the outside. Only dry tears are on my face, but even then I didn't make a sound. I didn't suddenly break down into sobs. A couple of tears dropped and then they stopped. When I saw my friend this summer she told me I had gotten a lot better at lying and holding in my emotions. It's sad but true. Now it's difficult to rile me up, because only my brother knew how to do that. I get annoyed, frustrated and find amusement in my classes antics, but those seem to be the basic emotions I show on a daily basis. Five months I've lived like this. In this state of numbness, that I don't know what to do about. 

   So I ask again what do I do now? It's not like I'm asking for some great mission that'll mark me in the history books I just want a reason for my existence again. I wish to stop being lonely, so that the pain in my chest can go away. I wish for something that will never happen for even I am unsure of what the void could fill or if it even can be filled. Maybe I'm broken? In a months time my deadline will be nine years, although I still wish to die this year. Even if it's to go to hell or wherever the heck I'll go. Maybe I'll just disappear from existence. 

Maybe, I'll see you around? Probably not.   

    

My last voice

   It was a normal cold, dreary, rainy Sunday in my little town. I was catching my breath at the tram stop while waiting for the number 11 to arrive and my thought's bounced from my parkour activities to something a bit more dark. I couldn't help, but wonder if at that moment there was a drive by who would I call and leave my final words to? At first I thought of my father, but I can't imagine putting him through such pain. Being so close, but unable to do anything, I think I'd break him. My thoughts then drifted to my brother, but he's so young and innocent. I couldn't scar him like that. Then I thought of friends- well I only really have 5 and three I immediately ruled out, because we just aren't that close. While the two left were so different yet exactly the same. I think of both as something akin to sisters- I feel undeserving of them in a way. Although I settled on one eventually. The one who's known me the longest. The one who's so far away from where I am she could never blame herself for what could happen. In a way I think she might have been pissed at me that I'd decide to call her instead of the police. She'd be angry with me for what I'd say. I think she'd cry for me, although I wish she wouldn't. Tears should not be wasted on me. Here's what my thought's brought me:
   The only thing I heard were the screeching of tires, before gunfire was let loose. In the chaos I had landed on the ground cover in glass from the broken tram stop and as soon as the shots started they ended. With tires once again speeding away. I try to stand, but immediately my body protests. Feeling the wetness on my hands I bring them into view and can see the dull red liquid on them. Looking down I can see it all around me. I'm the only one at the stop though, so it must be from me. No wonder I'm not panicking my body's trying to survive. My head feels heavy, so I stay there laying on the ground, trying to fish my phone out of my bag. I finally find it and slowly start to type in a number. The only number I know by heart that's still in use. It starts to ring and I wait for it to reach voice mail, as I know it will. It's too early for her to be up and even if she was, she never answers my call the first time. Finally I hear the annoying female operator and after the beep I start to talk. "Hey Morgan, it's me..... Listen sorry if I wake you but it might not ever happen again so don't get too angry, please?" I take a slow gasp and struggle with my breath, "I just wanna say 'thank you' and I'm sorry for being such a jackass friend." I can't help but laugh at this part. "I'm hurt, real bad and I'm not sure I'll survive." My breathing becomes more labored and even though I can hear the sirens in the background I know it's too late. "Can you tell my brother I'm sorry, as well? Give him a hug for me? I'm so sorry. So sorry. I was awful to both of you, but I love you both so much and I feel terrible for leaving you." I can tell it's over, but I struggle, "Live, live your lives. Be happy and move forward. I love you. Thank you and I'm sorry." My breath ends with this and my vision quickly fades. With my last strength I hang up. There's no reason to let her hear my final halfhearted breaths. The last thing I see is the headlights of the bright red number ll tram making it's way toward my stop.
   Is it cruel of me to record my dieing words on my best friends answering machine? Is it cruel that the only two people I had in mind was Morgan and my brother and not my parent's? Maybe it's because my biggest regret is leaving them behind and never being able to apologize to them for that. Maybe it's because I'm still angry with my mother that I don't have her in mind. As for my father I think it'd hurt him too much. He'd torture himself with the message. The biggest question: Is it strange that one of my first thoughts for the year 2014 were "I hope I die this year" ? It's sad, but at the end of the day I can't help but wish for it all to end. My existence is pointless, useless. I'm a waste of space and air. My only wish is to be cremated and my ashes put back where they belong- in the dirt.

Maybe I'll see you around, or maybe not.