Cyris Green
Stories (2)
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A flower in the wind
I often wonder why i make the decisions i do. Its not rare for me to become consumed by my emotions, and at first, it was nice. Though after countless times of hurting myself, i realized its a power i do not know how to control. Its not inherently a fault, though its not something that can be fiddled with. Emotions provide an imperceptible insight into how one brain functions. Often times, its incredibly difficult for someone to gain an understanding of one others brain. Every once in a millennia though, someone shares a little too much, and they become destroyed. That person, i believe is myself. There was a point in time when i was so closed off to the world, that it was nearly impossible to hurt me. I never allowed anyone to gain any understanding of my thoughts, and through it, there was never anything someone could use against me. Now don’t believe I'm playing a victim, i assure you, I'm not. I am no victim of a crime. I am the criminal who broke the one single law i vowed never to break. The crime against myself. I am the victim of the crime i committed with the help of myself. I used my own knowledge to hurt myself. Ive spent years studying the intricate maze for my thoughts, all so i could know how to best destroy it. Ive spent my lifetime worried of how others could hurt me, though i never took into account the person who knows the most, me. I took a dagger and plunged it straight into my back. I took it out and stood there as i bled. My sight blackens and my heart slows. I fall to the ground as my thoughts begin to dissipate. One eye closes, then the next. I lie there, no movement. My fingers twitch as my brain tries to think one more thought.
By Cyris Green4 years ago in Psyche
when I leave, remember me this way.
I often think about my grandpa, Ernest Lovejoy. I know I know, what a name. Though he was quite the guy. I didn’t spend a lot of my life by his side, though I like to think he has always been there from the start. He held me when I was born, I think at least. I don’t have any pictures, but sometimes I like to turn the lights off and make a picture in my head, it makes me smile. He left this world a few years ago, when I was a little bit younger, and a little bit dumber. I cried a lot. The tears never seemed to slow. I wrote him a letter. I never got to know if he got it. I hope he did. He was the first person, and only person close to me that I've lost. It holds a weight in my heart, though I don’t think I want to rid myself of this weight any time soon. He always seemed to make me smile. He always seemed to care. His hugs were so nice. He always smelt of cigarettes, but that was okay, only for him though. One day, many years ago, we were living with him, and my brother crashed his bicycle when I was riding on the front pegs. I cut my lip open and I was screaming bloody mary. Though the moment I got back home, my grandpa came up to me and said that we should go get ice cream for the lip, and so we did. It was quite nice. He may have left me, but his memory will never. Its hard to pull yourself up when you lose someone you love. I don’t think you have to though. I don’t think you have to, because I don’t think you ever fell down in the first place. I think that when we lose someone, whether its forever or temporary, we lose a piece of ourselves. It just takes a little bit of time to find a placeholder. Though filling that gap will never mean forgetting their beauty. I know that now. My grandpa was an incredible human, one of few I will never forget. The spot he held inside me has been filled many times since then, though he still follows me. To lose someone is a pain no person should ever experience. Though it is one we all will. Being sad and holding grief is something we all should do. Tears hold stories that will water the planet. Pain holds strength that only you can understand. Grief holds serenity only a pure mind can explore. I think about all of this when I think of him. More after too. I wish I could talk to him, just for a moment. I talk to myself as if its him, but its not the same. Though I think there’s a beauty in those wishes, and I don’t think you should ever stop making those wishes. They keep you grounded. They keep you true. I wish he were here, but I suppose he always has been. In my own way, in the best way. His most pure moments. His eyes when I stayed looking at him. His stubble when I’d give him a hug. His smell when I’d wake up and sit on the porch with him. His hands when I would grab them to show him something. He stays there, in a million ways and more. Still its hard not being able to see him. That’s okay though. And I think I’ll l always be okay with this.
By Cyris Green4 years ago in Families
