killer instinct - || h.s. ||

29

" and life can't be no fairytale, no once upon a time "

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aurora astor.

It's always one step forward and two steps back.

That's what this game is that the universe is playing, and quite frankly, I should have known better.

I should have known that digging for answers comes with a price. I should have known that this was never meant to be easy. I should have known that searching for the last bit of happiness out there wouldn't come without breaking myself first.

As riveting as the desire for adventure and curiosity is, there are always consequences.

I should have known.

It's been grueling, getting up out of bed and taking showers even though Harry helped me through the incredulous action. It seems as though these minuscule tasks have become chores rather than normalities.

I've put out a lot of my anger onto that poor punching bag at the gym, my knuckles ache and my body sore – doesn't compare to the pain in my head.

But it's not the worst it has ever been.

At this point, I'll take anything, but there's a part in this fucked up story where I should stop.

There's a point where I have to accept that this lonesome reality is the one that's here to stay. The reality that I may never get my answers, even if they exist out there, some things might just be better not knowing.

I just wish I was that person – a person that could let all of that go so easily – but I think it's blatantly obvious that's not who I am.

So that just leaves me with thought after thought after thought of possibilities that exist out there, and Thomas has all the apparent answers I need.

But I'm honestly not that stupid, I know what his request entails. I know there's a price because nothing in life is ever free.

It entails me joining a gang for the rest of my life and turning into someone I'm not. It entails an unprecedented future of violence and no peace of mind without doing any good in the world.

That's not what they would have wanted, and I know that.

They'd already be disappointed in my actions at the Pit, they'd already been disappointed in the person I've become in my pursuit for contentment.

It's almost like painting with the endless possibility of all the colors in the world at your fingertips. All of them reflect different wavelengths of light, projecting themselves to the world in shades of pastels and brights.

Then there's black – the combination of all that color absorbing becomes the absence of it all.

The absence of light is what this feels like – as if there really is no light at the end of the tunnel.

Yet he's like the color white in the midst of the darkness.

That stupid, nostalgic idiot of all people.

He's the reflection of all the colors that could ever exist, scattering wavelengths to the depths of my bleakness and telling me to keep going even when there's nothing left.

With the strenuous lack of motivation, dragging me through days, I've slowly made my way back to my usual state of existing.

Despite all of this, I really need the money now and it's not in my nature to give up a fight – especially not the first fight of the tournament.