IDEAS

August 18, 1973
“You’re such a useless man who does nothing in this house. I can’t believe mom didn’t divorce you yet. And if you didn’t realize yet, she has been cheating on you for the past two years!” replied Annie fiercely.
When she uttered those words, my heart sank.
All I had ever asked from her was for another pen because the previous one had run out of ink. Ever since Nam, I have been expressing my feelings about the war through a journal. Bleeding out my entire life story, leaving in every gruesome description so these thoughts would not chain me up. My hope was for my daughter to read these countless pages and realize that it was not my choice to leave her. The only way I can truly speak to them is by the words I write.
March 16, 1971
Arising from bed for morning’s work, I sense the strong whiff of freshly brewed coffee. Along with the new day, I was once again awoken to the sound of the radio which stood on top of the wooden cabinet. Today, 348 men had been drafted to the terrifying war. Every man in town was uneasy, none of us wanted to join in a never ending war but we all loved our country dearly. They say that when you sing along to the Star Spangled Banner, tears roll down your cheeks. But are you willing to bleed red stripes for the sake of your country? I shuddered at the thought of leaving my wife and two beautiful children all alone in Afton without their father. But they also realized that on any day I would be sailing over the ocean blue for such sake.
-Napalm incident
-Innocent children—losing their parents- with clothes torn and bruises, etc.


OR...

-Backstabbing friend – Short story
Sent a private text to everyone- making her expelled/suspended from school

Prison Bars

Droplets of water diving down from leaves,
Soaking upon the dry cemented earth.
They settle down comfortably at ease,
For the young seedlings they grant a new birth.
The birds piling down one by one.
For a feast they come in union with nature,
Down above them, the gleam of the sun.
Bringing a smile upon their creator.
Shimmering and sparkling water they nestle upon,
Interrupted by the deafening bustle behind them, their traitor.
Looking for which to catch before dawn.
Forever will their lives be,
Captivated by the presence of their enemy, Where they can never flee.

Shipwreck

Your heart, blackened with tar.
Should be shipped off in the sea afar.
Ah at last!
Everyone would exclaim.
And then finally you would lay your head in shame.
I am not afraid or ashamed to say
That I wish a storm of hail may come your way
And that a thousand birds would peck your face.
Reminding you of how much you are a disgrace.

Enough

Hands stretched up in surrender.
Above her, a white flag drooping down below .
Husband and kids remain asleep in the second floor.
She can’t do it all alone.
Tears rolling down her eye lids,
Quickly drenching her plaid shirt.
The pain and stress piled on her chest is unbearable.
Her faith is in quicksand.

Outside

Swaying from the trees
Nourished from the rays of sunlight
The crimson stained florets lay
Bountiful overhead.
Each one designed in brilliant shades of colors.
Even more majestic then the work of man's hands.
A peaceful soul relaxed from the calm, soothing breeze,
bringing one closer to the beauty of nature.

Silence

Without warning,she erupted.
The fumes seeping into the open air through her nostrils.
Take avenge for the years of mistreatment.
The streets are quiet and filled with debris.
Dust swarms into the atmosphere,
consumed by the few living inhabitants that are left in
the burden.
Shattered dreams and hopes are scattered now across the ground
never to be brought into place again.

COMPLETED- Mountain Climb

As I drove up to the barn, memories of the moments where my life had all been worthless flooded my mind. I had so much hatred in my heart but I had to eventually let it free. Dylan, my older brother had always been looked upon as the God of the house. Everything he accomplished was what I lacked. My mother would constantly say, “I wish you were the exact version as your brother, you’re just a waste of space and a mother’s burden.”

All I wonder to myself is how I was able to survive all those years. Everyday, I hated myself for being raised by her and my father. My father, Bill on the other hand was on the side of showing emotions through his actions. There are exactly three scars right across my lower back. One I can easily recount was from the moment where Dylan had spilled the cup of coffee onto the white carpet floor that was newly bought. As my father returned home from his long day of work at the barn I had spent the entire afternoon memorizing my speech of who and how the contents leaked out. Yet to my surprise I was introduced immediately to the whip that my dad had kept underneath the couch in the living room. Not once did he question if someone else in the house may have caused the incident.
As I stood out of the truck, these memories kept on swarming in. Each step to the wooden door was a bundle of heavy weight upon my shoulders. I had not visited them for more then 13 years and the last thing I wanted to do was shake either one’s hand or even greet them.
I made it to the door. My first task had beem accomplished.

As I rang the door bell that had spider webs surrounded in all directions I heard my mother yelling out, “Bill get the door and on the way take out the trash, I’m making some dinner here!”
I could hear the creaks of the wooden floors, every step had been my father coming closer to an unexpected guest.
As he slowly opened the door he quickly jumped back in surprise. I could swear that this was finally the first moment ever that I had seen fear rushing through his eyes.
"What are doing here Nate?" my father said in disbelief.
"I came here to see her" I replied back.

"Well...umm..go to the kitchen" he replied quietly.

"Bill!!.. I asked you to take the trash out I ca--..
She saw me right there, there was no escape, this time I was not going to leave and neither could she.
After the long awkward moment of of standing there in mixed emotions she went on asking,

“Would you like some tea?”
After all, the journey home had been over 2 hours. My throat had been extremely dry as if someone had shoved a pile of cement down my esophugus forcefully.
“I would. Thank you.”
“Careful. It’s hot.”
“I usually prefer iced tea.”
“Mmm. I don’t have any.”
“Maybe I can put ice in this tea.”
“But that’s what I’m saying—I don’t have any cubes. Sorry.”

Before she began to utter another word, I could see tears streaming down her face like a violent storm.
I could not look at her anymore. Was she about to give her entire speech of apology and attempt to flush all those years down the toilet?

These memories came back to haunt me again.
I'd crawl up into the closet when everyone would be fast asleep, always making sure that father was a distance away, I feared him.
I would constantly pray for a miracle to take place in my life and that the biterness from my parents would switch around. I'd often cry so hard to sleep and until my eyes would stop producing tears.

I couldn't hold this grudge any longer.

I spoke the words right there out of my lips

"I forgive you."


I left the house, never returning again.

You may be thinking that I am a disgrace to my family for not returning back home to communicate with my parents but try living in my boots for a change.
You try going to counseling for four and a half years for suicide prevention and come back to me.
All I can say now is I feel a whole load of weight that I held for those many years of my chest and now I am free to acomplish any task thrown towards me.