Self Inflicted Wounds: Prolouge
This is going to be a lot more like the Dalmatian Under the Tree. Drama, Drama, Drama. I am writing this because of a movie I have watched, and of a title my friend once wrote. This isn't all going to be sadness and horridness, but it will be there. I hope you enjoy the taste.
Self Inflicted WoundsWritten by TiggyTiger Love: noun 1. great liking or affection. 2. Sexual affection or passion. 3. a
strong liking for a thing. 4. a loved
person; a sweetheart.5.
Looking past any and all problems, willing to do anything and everything
for that one person. The person that makes you feel Love is a tricky emotion; it can bring out the good,
and the bad. It can influence the most awful human being to do the kindest of
things, and yet somehow it can also cause a person to crumble to pieces,
causing them nothing but pain. If I were to ask you to describe love as a scene,
you would tell me a happy couple, holding each other; and or showing their love
in the most intimate of ways. Or, if you wanted to be a bit more artistic, you would
say a sunlight field that's grass was softer than silk to the touch and looked
greener than any grass you had ever seen. You would then continue to tell me
about the beautiful flowers that grew from the ground, making the green grass a
mere canvas to something even more beautiful.I would say both of these descriptions as bull shit.If I were asked to describe what love is in a scene,
I would say an elderly man sitting on the side of a street. His clothes
wreaked, his fur dirty while his tin can in front of him remained empty, all
the while dark clouds remain above the city. Dark, swirling clouds that hold this
man's fate in a simple choice. Why do I describe it like this? It's simple. Love
has two ways of going. It all goes well, or it all falls to hell. Just like the
storm clouds and the man. The first option, and usually the rare option, is
the sky clears up. The grey dissolves into a clear gem blue sky, casting light
down onto the city where people continue to give the elderly homeless man some
spare change. However, the second option (which is usually the
most definite when one sees dark rain clouds) is that the rain comes down. The
thunder booms, and the lightning strikes the earth with its rage, leaving the
homeless man, freezing, cold, and alone. Love is intricate emotion, which can leave one with
enough money to eat, or can leave you out in the storm. A man once told me that people spend too much time
worrying about how to get out of a rain. He was one of those people. He is why
my storm rages on; and yet it wasn't his fault. His life was rough, hard and when the speck of hope
showed its face, there was only darkness to plug it back up. My name is Emmet Daniels, and I am stuck in the
rain. It pours down on me hard, like
thick icicles constantly hitting and scraping my back. Making it harder and
harder to move on. The thunder and lightning, flashing and booming in a
constant beat. It was almost musical. I look up into the sky as my Husky's face reeled through
my head like an old movie. He was gone, but I knew I had to push on. This was my rain, and this was me trying to get out
it. The story is unclear to you, I know. That's why I'm
going to tell you what happened. From when Claye started at my school, till
when he left. Then you can see why my version of love is so twisted, and so
contorted.My name is Emmet Daniels, and this is my storm.