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.