Fond Of Shadows

Each word I speak, acts like a piercing blade, wounding all who listen and those I care most deeply for. Words are a most powerful weapon; they have the ability to enthrall and bewilder hordes of men and the ability to crush their very souls. Here I am constantly speaking, using this powerful device, not realising the damage I have done to those I hold closest. Many broken hearts I have created, few could be mended. Many souls I have crushed; a shame I bare forever. These words of mine, of which I speak, are indeed a devil; a curse we all unfortunately bare. Stacking! Building a bridge; of sorrow and misery. That’s all I can do, it’s all I’m good for. Wreaking havoc upon peoples lives, with my cursed tongue of lies. Harm unwanted, I create. Pain unasked, I beget. Engaged in folly, in havoc, in pain; in these blasted words, that slips my lip. Dare I speak another one? The pain I unleash upon my loved. Every thought is a shadow; of horrors and sorrows I have placed. Freedom of speech seems to have brought binding chains on my life. Stuck behind a barbed wire fence, loneliness is their justice. Stuck; in a mimed gaol cell, just to prevent my own actions. I am a prisoner of words. A slave of a life unwanted. Take it away from me. Never again shall I speak. Steal it. Hide it. Keep it. Take it. No longer will I beget ill. Never again shall word or action be made. No longer will I cause pain and suffering. No longer will anyone, anywhere be subject to the horrors I create. Take my woes I beg of you, live them like I have lived them. Hold my sorrows in your hands. Shake in their presence. Cry and beg for them to go; to leave the hell within your soul. Take my woes I beg of you!


Quietly you lay, unable to sleep. Every thought that enters your mind is a harmful one. Every action you have done over the past years, you feel has been pointless. Life seems like a dreary hell, a place where every action leads to devastation. Your friends, your family, your beloved have all left you. You are alone. You scared them away. You hurt them. You brought sorrow onto their lives. Although you are filled with good intention, you only wreak havoc. Your hand begins to quiver and shake. An uneasiness of which you have never felt before, overcomes you. Your hate for yourself grows; your thoughts a fertilizer. Every bone in your body begins to rattle. You need to stop them. You grab the nearest book and begin to whack your legs with it; hoping they will no longer rattle, but they persist. You begin to yell; using the very words that have brought you this pain. Your life is meaningless. It is painful. It is worthless. Thoughts have become your enemy; words are there vessel. Sweat begins to drip off every part of your body. Your eyes begin to twitch. Your face feels as though it is melting. The very thought of existence begins to crumble. You are nothing. You are no one. You are useless. Never before in the earths bleak existence, has anyone, anywhere been so utterly useless. Your life is not worth living, all you will do is create more pain, more suffering and more ill. And forever you will. Your eyes glance towards the knife beside you. Your body begins to tremble. Your body feels as if it were being crushed by some sort of celestial body. Your thoughts begin to hasten; in and out, they keep going. You are a failure. You are useless. You are a worthless burden on every ones life; even your own. Your soul is bound to pain. Slowly your hand moves towards the knife, every moment shaking. The shaking of your hand becomes so violent that your other hand is needed to keep it still. Hand on hand, moving, shaking, and getting ever so nearer the treacherous prize. You are possessed by a demon or so it would seem. What man would dare think such ghastly thought? What person would do such a hideous act? Scratch upon scratch; you mark your body. Mark upon mark; your thoughts keep growing. Scar upon scar; life has become silly. Blood begins to sneak out of every part of your body. Your hand quickly becomes covered in it. Thousands upon thousands of drips of blood shower the ground. When will you stop? This is silly. Not only do you hurt others, but yourself as well. You are the pain in your soul. You are the failure you create. You are worth nothing. You drown in your sorrows.


Shadows of my former self appear, on the walls, on the floors and on every crack of stone. These shadows of me as a child haunts me, curse me; torment my soul. A child; who caused no pain, did no wrong, suffering only the illness of joy. Now look at me, a man burden by sorrow. I am no more then a pest to myself and to the world I inhabit. All these troubles I beget and yet this shadow, this shadow of me is happy. It is as if it enjoys watching me suffer and beget suffering. Perhaps I should cast away these sorrows I bare and become like this shadow of me, take joy in others suffering. His grim pale face, his childish grin; serves only as a mocker. He looks exactly like me, same thick black hair, and same green eyes. He is me but younger. Yet I feel so different from him. I have changed, no longer am I happy. No longer do I enjoy watching people suffer and now I suffer because of this change. I want to go back to this shadow. I want to be myself again. This conscience of mine is the cause of my unhappiness. Leave me now! Leave me!

You grapple with yourself, trying to pull single strands of hair from your head. All in a vain attempt to pluck your conscience from your soul, to become the shadow you use to be. All you want now is to be a child, to become the very thing you grew out of, just so you can be happy. Why do you long for happiness? Why do you see yourself as a creator of sorrow? You are not god, you do not create; you only live. Your purpose is to live and grow, not to reverse the ageing process, not to become the shadow that you see. You hurt yourself. You hurt your friends. You even hurt your family. But you can not hurt this shadow, this beast that enjoys watching you and others suffer. You are this child, you’re just too daft to realise it. Time may have passed, you may have changed but these shadows have not. Happiness is still inside you, these shadows are still inside you, it’s just you that’s no loner inside you. You are to busy complaining about your woes, about the damage you cause; yet you do not stop. You as a shadow favours pain. Now you live in it.

No I am not this child. I am me. I want to be this shadow; this child of me. I want to be happy again, that’s all I want. Either way I cause pain, why not at least enjoy myself. Be happy with myself, myself as a dealer of pain. It is not wrong to long for happiness, nor is it wrong to be happy. However wrong it may be to cause pain, to speak words of damage, I can not stop myself from doing it. Why should I be miserable too? Why should I be apart of the damage count? No matter how morally wrong it may be to take joy in other pain, no mater how much it goes my very nature as a person, it is the only way I can be happy. Yet this conscience enters me, takes my happiness, and steals my shadow. Then it questions my want for happiness, questions the very thing that every human strives for.

You peer towards one shadow of you, walking ever so slowly towards it. It beckons you closer and you take every single step it tells you to take. The Shadow’s arm touches your arm; it begins to fuse with you, to become one with you. Then The Shadow’s arm other melts into your other arm. Soon its entirety except its head has fused with you. Will you make this last step? Will you allow this shadow to take over your very mind? All this; in the name of happiness. You want to let yourself die to let your very conscience die. You’re willing to let every single person you care about escape your mind just so you can become this shadow, just so you can be happy.

The head of the shadow and you begin to fuse, though you try to pull it back, it is too late. You have become the shadow.