The Bleak Morning Hours…

For some reason, I was going through Anita Blake again, I came across this excerpt that I never really paid much attention to before.

One emergency at a time. Save Jason, contact some people I knew to see if they knew anything about Heinrick, then prepare for the big banquet with Musette and company. Oh, and figure out how to keep the mess with Asher from driving a permanent wedge between Jean-Claude and me. Just another day in my life. This was one of those days when I thought that maybe a new life, a different life, wouldn’t be so bad. But where the hell had I put the receipt, and could you return something that was over twenty years old? Where do you go to get a new life when your old one has you so puzzled you don’t know how to fix it? Wish I knew.

There is nothing much I can do but shake my head at it’s irony and vivid image.

If there was a sense of close comfort, now it would be the books I hold myself to. It would be the characters I have always wanted to live as. They may not always have had happy endings…but they had a comfortable ending. Which is more to say than a hell I am putting myself under these days.

If anything…fighting was most natural to me.

Not the people I laugh with, not the words I could understand and write, not the machines which I hold dear. No. Fighting is what I represent. Taking something I never had and putting all the effort to make it mine. Like Anita Blake and what she sacrificed to put into her life. Like Edward and what he did to become the killer he is. Like Jean Claude and Asher who endured unspeakable horrors to become the charming sex gods they are.

It was always effort to be that for me.

That was always what came natural. But I wonder what would happen should efforts fail? What would happen when you’re left standing alone on the sands with truly nothing to show for yourself but the tides of failures that wash upon your shores. I guess…if anything it comes back to the beginning for me.

I don’t know how long I can believe that there is always a happy ending for people like me.

I don’t know if ever there is a happy ending for people like me.

Maybe like Anita Blake, like Edward, like JC and Asher, like Richard…happiness doesn’t come with a picket fence. Happiness doesn’t do justice for us because we are not meant to be happy in this reality. We have to be comfortable in the reality we deal with, the ones where fallen angels dance. The ones where happiness can come from the quiet trickle of blood or the screams of torment.

It’s either that or I start a new life away from all this. Away from everything that reminds me of this life. I wish I could. But she’s right. I also wish I knew where to start…but I don’t. So one emergency at a time. I don’t want to cry anymore. I don’t want to fight battles that should not be fought in the first place. I just want to live in that reality I best live in.

To quote Anita Blake again.

Sometimes love makes you selfish. Sometimes it makes you stupid. Sometimes it reminds you why you love your gun.

Even if that means tearing out the last parts of my humanity.

Sometimes its better to be a monster and survive.

Than to be a human and live.

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