Humans are nothing if not an infinite stream of potential. Contained within the first beginnings of humanity are the opportunities to destroy nations, cure diseases, or - in fact - have no impact at all. The startling truth seems to us so impossible that we break down our lives day to day, moment to moment, just trying to make sense of madness. Like a glass of cold water can rouse us from delirious fever, our daily planners round us from the turbulent sea of our mind, wrapping us in a warm blanket and helping us recover from the ever present shock.
Eventually we learn that life is chaotic, like a blizzard that blinds and tears, separating the weak from the strong. It whirls around us in distracting strands of barbed wire, which dance like snowflakes in the depths of winter. Its currents devour, wrapping around our thoughts - causing us to stumble over words, and interfering with the only path it allows us to see. It leaves behinds stinging cuts that singe and penetrate deeper than any papercut. Innocence is deformed by the sharp points, so we grow up, building a bigger wall with each passing birthday.
You can almost hear its laughter – sweet and sadistic as it chimes in the air around us. There is no direction, only the knowledge that it exists, and the hopelessness which arises from knowing we can never win. Most of us don't even know where we stand in life. The voice rings out – calling out at night after a few too many or when the sheets are cold beside you. Life is a cold, cruel mistress and she never leaves.
Humans have the potential to build, and to destroy - with the latter being so much easier than the former. For years we can lay the foundation with others, carefully mixing concrete in measured doses, being wary to follow some unknown procedure. But even if we follow every step, every minute detail, the world can crumble and foundations can fall. Our hearts can come crashing down like an ancient ruin – crushed under the strain of Mother Nature's cruel hand. Because that's what life does – she tests us, some more than others – some justified and some not.
Even if we take years to build up a relationship and place every brick perfectly, so every edge is exactly perpendicular and parallel – we can never be confident. Because as anybody who has ever played a good game of Jenga knows, a tower can be so beautiful and one idiotic, unpredictable move can have it shattering down. It can collapse in a heap of sharp corners and smooth wooden faces, in a cumulative crash which echoes on the plastic table top and makes you flinch at the harshness.
Humans are beautiful in their devotion - the way their eyes shine, shoulders lift. The naivety of the human spirit always manages to astound. When their eyes finally connect with those they love – it is as if their world has lit up – like a toddler seeing a Christmas tree for the first time. Even if the other has no love for them, humanity is hopeful, crying out falsehoods which our delicate soul consumes eagerly.
But life is a cruel mistress, who crushes the light and feeds from the dark. She takes the soft glow of happy souls and devours them. The brightly lit smoke vaporizes and comes together, resulting in a swirling mass of black, as it twirls outside of suburban neighborhoods. Humans, in their resiliency, rebuild – take strength from those around them and try again.
Eventually, we get tired of the rebuild and the crushing defeat, so we give in. It's an easy choice, and one which requires no effort at all. Just slump against the uncomfortable back of a hospital chair, or drink until you forget his face. Fight the voice in your head designated to support you. Shut it up with a new addition – drugs, alcohol, porn – pick your poison, fate doesn't care.
We all end up in the ground when we're dead. And that's at the point he's at. Kevin Ryan sat quietly in the hospital room, head in his hands staring at the pale skin of his partner. His hipbones were digging unceremoniously into the pathetic plastic chair, his back bent in the uncomfortable curve of resignation. He watched as his partners face remained still, his lips barely shifting around the plastic tube helping him to breathe.
Javier looked so lost, his face pale against the uncomfortable hospital pillow. Guilt hit Kevin in a wave emotion, soaking his wrinkled clothes and receding to leave him in his misery. He longed to kiss his partner, return the opportunity he had selfishly pushed away. He could feel the uncomfortable trail of drying tears, which left his red cheeks feeling tight.
The hospital has long quieted down. The dark room was illuminated by the scarce yellow glow of the reading light which Kevin hadn't had the heart to shut off. The blue shadows of the monitors were accompanied by a constant pattern of sound, adding to the eeriness. The moonlight filtered in from the cheap blinds, illuminating the sticky, tiled floor, and reinforcing the feelings of crushing isolation.
The nurse's pitiful, lingering look passed hours ago, and he hasn't moved since, not when his throat dried up or his stomach wailed in hunger. His legs cried out from their lack of use, but the Irishman ignored their protests. The man before him had survived gunshots, and torture - and he had to survive this. Ryan made sure to be by his side when he finally did. The battle for consciousness was futile, as finally Ryan felt himself succumb to his fatigue.
Hours later, the sun crawled up from below the horizon, streaming through the thin slats of the hospital blinds. The rays blinded his fatigued eyes and made him flinch from where he had unceremoniously fallen asleep. Slowly adjusting to the new light, he groaned, running his hands across the stubble on his cheeks before stifling a yawn. He slowly shifted his shoulders, regaining feeling in his extremities before facing the guilt of the scene before him.
He was surprised by what he saw. Laying before him, free of the breathing tube and adjourned in a white bandage, was his partner. His brown eyes shone behind his fatigue and it was the most beautiful thing Kevin had ever seen. And somehow, without words, the Irishman knew that he had been forgiven and nothing else mattered.
Sorry for the long wait guys. This was going to be for a different story, but I felt I owed you guys to finish this. Hope you enjoy this chapter and the new style. And I didn't kill anyone off, so that's good I suppose. Thank you for your patience, and your loyalty.
Cheers, Stephanie.