Lost Notes VI (I'm my own Beserkr)

I love to immerse myself so deeply into a book that must be read.

To be involved with the characters and feel their emotions; feel their

pain, joy, and tears. Tragic irony wounds us all into believing

there can be no happy ending. All comes to an end when the last sentence

is read and happiness mingles with remorse. I don't want to believe

that's the end; I refuse to let the story cease there. So, I plunge

forward into the book that will never be written and never be read.

I write myself into the after thought and play the heroine I know I

have not the courage to be. The strong role of protector and yet also

taking up the mantel of the clichéd victim, torn apart inside. Having

to make war against enemies who are only decoys to my thoughts and

exist only to take my mind away from the pain of the past. Sword in hand,

it's hard to realize how peaceful she really is. Her strength is reflected

in the blood on her blade and the hurt in her eyes. Foolish mortals

always having to strike conflict upon their peaceful counterparts. She

sees the suffering of her race; yet she has not the power to stop it.

How is it possible to feel helpless and strong at the same time? Do

I take pleasure at looking in their fearful eyes full of knowing death is

near? How could they have been so ruthless in their lives and expect

the mercy death would grant them? No, no more. These eyes have seen

enough bloodshed. I protect those I love; but I only battle when I have

no other choice. Those fools should know by now I'm my own beserkr.

They've heard of my skill with sword and dagger and still they think

they are invincible. Believing they know my weakness; it's always

proven to be my secret strength. They don't understand the pity that's

held within my soul. The fools shouldn't have to die in a massacre that

could have been avoided.

Those fools should know by now I'm my own beserkr.