This... This darkness... So deep. So turbulent. So... Cold. I revel in it, because it is all I know. Which makes its existence all the sadder, because it is not mine. No, not my darkness. It is a darkness borne of others. Borne of their selfishness and coldness and hatred and malice and ignorance. Ah... What an invisible crime, ignorance. Ignorance is passing a homeless man on the street, not meeting his sad eyes. Ignorance is hearing the savage whipping of a small boy and not finding a way to protect him. Ignorance is the silent acceptance, absolution, indulgence and invitation to all the evil in the world. And in doing such, ignorance becomes the greatest evil of this world... I know. I bear its scars. I bear the scars of pride and envy and anger and lust. Some - self-inflicted. But only in an effort to cover the scars of a same nature left by others. This darkness may not be mine, but it is mine to bear. As is this coldness. Mine... Mine... What is mine, truly? Im not sure, for I have never seen my own face in the mirror. I have never gazed into my own eyes. I have only seen the hatred on the face of, seen the depth of pain in, the eyes of this creature whom others have twisted and molded me into. I peer inwards and find only that Sea of Darkness, ebbing and flowing as steadily as the tides of the moon. Pushing, pulling, twirling and dazzling with its unnatural beauty. Constantly at war. Constantly drowning in chaos. If only I could cage the monster from which it stems. If I could but wrestle the beast to the sands of this cold beach and cage it, then I could become something so... Immense. Loved. Needed. Or perhaps, I would simply realize that I am indeed, loved and needed, regardless of my pain. The blinders might be lifted from my eyes and I would find that I revel not in darkness, but only perceived shadows, tricks of my own lost, frail mind. I am so full of things I wish I were not.... There are glimmers of light. I see them. They shine through when I let go and let my fingers fly across the pages. But I have no idea on how to find it. No idea where that little box of light is stored. And so, I cannot offer it to those whom deserve it. I smile, but it cannot reach my eyes. I speak of love, without having ever truly felt it. I laugh, while wishing the world might burn so I could let go, that it might be so beyond repair that I lose the urge to fix it. Life... It is not something I understand, desperately though I may try. All I really have to offer anyone... Are pretty words and an empty heart... Heres to hoping you can fill it. - Preston K. Bullard Hey guys, my name is Preston. Im a writer just like you... And managed to get a little lucky with the self-publishing industry. Hope you enjoyed the little excerpt of my work up top there. I come to you with an offer. ramblingreviewer.wix/fivedollarreviews I run an extremely affordable review site based off the idea of a fiverr, namely, a product offered in return for five dollars. I do reviews within three days of ordering and I have over 55 pleased customers to date with reviews spanning across Amazon, Goodreads, Smashwords and the iTunes book store. You can see examples of the reviews on my site. Im a professional copy-editor, graphic designer and website builder by trade - there are a number for services offered on my site, all of which are of great use to budding authors. I also promote each book I review on my fanpage of 24,000 people at facebook/think.for.yourself.slave as an added bonus. For free, I also upvote all positive reviews on your item and downvote all negative. Who wants to see those nasty reviews anyway? I sure dont! I want to see your book shine! Be sure to take a look! The link is below. :) ramblingreviewer.wix/fivedollarreviews
Posted on: Mon, 27 Jan 2014 11:19:55 +0000
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