Running up hills

My whole life I had spent fighting against it all. I had grown up always pushing, always fighting my way forward. I had to find inside me a deep rage few would ever understand.

WHAT MAKES THE GREEN GRASS GROW!?

BLOOD, BLOOD, BLOOD RED BLOOD!

So I live with years of pain and loss. I live with constant awareness of the sound of my footsteps, who could see me, and where any threats could come from.

THERE ARE TWO KINDS OF PEOPLE!

THE QUICK AND THE DEAD, SIR!

WHO ARE YOU!?

THE QUICK!

WHO ARE THEY!?

THE DEAD!

I became a sharpened weapon, almost a machine. A certain monster. Or so I thought. I only had chance to see that part of me. In conflict I could not afford being anything else.

It was only a part of me. The machine being only a part and not a whole.

Recently I had grown restless. I am used to pushing, keeping a constant pressure on everything around me. I found myself in a safe place, where I don’t need my guard up constantly.

So what did I do? I started pushing limits.

I did the hardest most impossible things I could do. I started running up hills, constantly improving myself. Thats how I live with what happened. Thats how I deal with all that pain. I use it as a rocket fuel to push me toward the stars!

As for my monsterous part, the machine, I gave it that name. It is not me, it is what I had to be at a time. And if I ever need to, I can become that again. Like armour one can wear again. Thats how I live with what I had to become.

Maybe you are walking the same path, or perhaps you had walked this path before. Maybe this gives you insight to your friend, or father, or significant other.

Its my hope that all this seem totally unfamiliar, a story to show the darkest parts of the world.

Thank you for following my story, and I wish you luck on writing yours.

Havoc

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