Black and white
Love and hate
Life and death.
They say there is a fine line in between, and that is probably true. But that fine line is a string stretched across a chasm ... or a misunderstanding. It reminds me of an old joke. Something about madness and a ray of light. I can't remember the details.
"Damn it, stop him! He's got a gun, probably a Glock 17!" a running detective shouted to his assistant. It was a damn mistake to come here, it was a mistake to go out today!
Spidy dropped the gun and jumped off the building, hanging the handcuffs. His body was still vibrating with pain, then he blacked out and fell.
But the gun...? There was the fall.
One more thing about the fall. It's not the fall that hurts, but the landing. Even if it's in a familiar corner... when you're pushed into that corner like an animal.
The boy looks so lost, not at all like the brave hero who challenged him in his own office.
"So you're ... L. Thompson Lincoln?"
the boy asks, and Tombstone nods. He had said his name before the kid turned. The boy looks a little relaxed because he remembers something. He turns his head.
He knew why the child, or the hero, was afraid.
Dangerous? He's more than dangerous. He's hurt, he's desperate.
He's running for his life. Who, by the way, is begging for an end. They all have. The lives, I mean. I guess that's part of the grand plan. Endings have to start somewhere... that's the tricky thing. When the Almighty gets involved, it's always a bit... Well, anyway, we have a story. And I'll try not to have to tell it... where the sheer greed for life takes us can be inspiring. Or shocking. I should tell it to someone else. Even better - what do they see? Fuelled by a conscious ignorance, a primal denial?
That we can be on the other side.
"I hate you."
"You do at the moment."
Faced with the certainty in Tombstone's words, Peter feels the blood run cold through his veins.
The next thing that comes to mind that might really drive me crazy is fear. Fear is such a small but powerful word. Fear can force people to do things they don't want to do. Fear is as beautiful as the most beautiful rose in the garden. But also as cruel as raping the innocent souls of children who have done nothing to anyone. Cruelty can distort the mind and can kill. When I think about it, words can scare even the strongest people, anything can scare people, only if you use it in the right way.
An wise man once said, "The biggest mistake you can make in life is to always be afraid of making a mistake" or "Fear is never in the things themselves, but in the way you look at them". i hate fear, but i have used it over and over again. I am like the others who use fear: A monster. That would kill for something it wants, but I have everything? Why am I a monster now? Because it uses fear to achieve its goal.
I live my life in fear, inexplicable fear, you could say. But the question is: am I a monster now? I can't control what it can't control. The masses fear me because of the secret I'm hiding. Fear again, fear everywhere, funny how fear controls almost everything.
Wait control. Keep control. Three little words that make a big meaningful word in society. Powerful words that don't exist, invented out of fear.
Keep the control.
Keep
the
control.
Intellectuals, that's a concept we understand. But unfortunately one that blinds us: keep control - or control keeps you! And you don't want that? And this is where my fall from grace begins. No, in reality, chaos holds us. An eternal storm that rages in all unimaginable directions. That breaks into our lives without warning and smashes our little boat against what is harder than us.
For example, our fellow human beings.
That is the truth. There is no control you can keep, control is an illusion. And it is perhaps those who cling to it most desperately. Fear is also an illusion, but we know that it is real, unlike control.
We know that we never had it. Only in the end, which we're closer to than I'd like to admit, do we understand that control is nothing more than fear. That's what panics the guys who need to be in control. For them, enjoying life is taboo. For them, it's worse than death. So they spend days digging for your secret. And then they sell it as fear. Fear consumes us like a Happy Meal. But we are the real consumers. We pay with our lives.
Speaking of death: death is not always the end of the end. There are detours, detours to escape, there are thousands, no, billions of detours.
Then he opened his eyes.
"Sir today, is the boys ballet theater."