Minor Cross-Promotion

I've been writing a little more recently. There's a lot going on, a lot that needs processing, and a lot of old processing that needs to be typed out. That said, I'll probably be posting more often. Check out these other sites of mine for different content:

Poet Hearts (Poetry)
Novel Narratives (Short Stories)
Emotional Sideshow -- Coming Soon

The War Zone

You've been invading my dreams again. And I doubt you'll ever read this, but for the sake of honesty, it's kinda nice to put this out there somewhere. It feels better than keeping it in my head. You never talk to me. If I'm lucky you mutter something in my direction under your breath. But it's always as cold as your stare is and leaves me wondering what I did wrong. I don't believe I'll ever know. And I'm not sure it's fair of you to withhold that from me, but I feel like asking now would only draw up old blood and make things worse again.

Maybe it was just the timing. Or something that wasn't me at all. Or living in your head too much, but you've already claimed that's not the truth. It's fine to dream, darling, just not to make monsters out of people when they sleep. You end up terrified or indignant or hurt and they're left wondering when they became so hideous.

I listen fairly often to things that remind me of you. That song in Wicked when you nudged me and I believed we could still be friends. That things would be okay. But that was the day before the war began. The anger still hurts a little when I let the memories of it surface. I still believe you almost hit me, and maybe I shouldn't have tried to stop you like I did, but I couldn't let you wander off alone. What was I supposed to do?

What was I supposed to do with any of it? How does a nation react when war is declared against it not for purpose of land or power seizure but for some fault of which it is unaware? When it gazes out across a wasteland it never intended and wonders if things could ever grow back? When it realizes that it won't? When it finally discovers the desert is smaller than it seemed at first, that the rest of the country will survive, but that the land will still lie dormant forever? At best, all this is a broken piece in a complicated machine. And I'll never know what broke it.

It may not be fair to me, but there's nothing I can do now. I'm not sure I can say I miss you, although a part of me does, because to invite you back within my borders is to risk a more devastating destruction for us both.

I see only anger in the dreams. But maybe someday I'll be able to see life there again instead.