The tale of two cities

It was the best of times; and it was the worst of times.

I've learned that you never want to put all your eggs into one basket. No matter how well you think you know someone, they will always have the ability to undercut you. So here is to to thinking you know a girl, and then finding out she is someone else entirely. You can throw the red roses away, they didn't mean shit to you anyways. I hope that a protruding thorn finds its way into your wrist and leaves you bleeding red. (Much like you discarded the one thing you said you wouldn't)

There is no "Leonidus the Great." Only a silhouette of a broken man weeping behind a dimly lit computer screen.

do not stand at my grave and weep

"Do not stand at my grave and weep; I am not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on the snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine in the night. Do not stand by my grave and cry; I am not there. I did not die."

CalVin

Wesley Woods

When I was in 6th grade I went to a camp in Eastern Tennessee known as Wesley Woods. An important detail to this camp is that it is a faith-based camp.
I Remember that our cabin went on a 'retreat' into the woods for an overnight stay. This was a period of my life when I was already beginning to question my faith.
So I, being a curious one, decided to ask my attractive female counselor "If you're not a christian, does that mean you don't go to heaven?"
And she responded that only Christians can make it into heaven.
I then remember asking her "Well, Ghandi wasn't a Christian... Is he in heaven."
And she responded that he was not.
It was at that point that I realized I wanted nothing to do with the Christian God.

anger

The man's heart beat against his rib-cage like a pounding fist. A thick layer of sweat had formed across his brow. Constant fear of being discovered by those who were calling for his persecution reminded him to keep his head down and face hidden. 

He entered into his North-London flat one final time to reclaim a handful of possessions. And at the top of the staircase, a man with several days of beard stubble waited. 

The wolves would be eating tonight.

the ocean

Incoming waves washed sand from in between her toes. Sea foam lined the shore. A sand-castle that a group of young children had made earlier in the day was being reclaimed by the elements. Its desheveled state was a reminder of a marriage that no longer was working. So across the great open expanse she looked, and wished in that moment she was apart of the ocean. No identity. No responsibilities. Nothing.