Fragility

Fragility



I was once told that men are strong; that we have the power to overcome any challenge. However, I'm not so sure that I believe that anymore. For the longest time my father was my hero; my light in the darkness . He was brave, strong, and above all else he would never give into temptation. That is, until one faithful day when humanities sins, and their dark dealings finally caught up to him.



That day, my father died. It changed everything.



The world was no longer the happy, carefree place where 'everything will be all right in the end' or where I could be whatever I wanted to be. It was no longer a great journey under the heart warming light of the sun and the relaxing blanket of night. Instead, the light became artificial and cold, and I could no longer tell where I was or how long I'd been there for. However, I pushed on. I promised myself that I would never give in; that I would never give up.



Several years passed, and things started looking good. The shadows of my past finally dispersed, casted away by the brightness of my future. My broken heart began to heal with the embracing warmth of a new love. My soul; my very determination; regrew as a new life entered into my own and at long last I began to watch that life grow. With it, I fell in love all over again, promising that even if the world were to end I would always protect him.  I would become the father I always dreamed I never lost.



But like father like son.



At first I didn't even notice. I mean, what harm could something so insignificant do, right? I didn't even notice as the temptation grew, and how each night I lost a little more of myself; of what I stood for and believed in. I became the very monster that I was running from, and I had no way of escaping it. It was humanities fatal flaw that brought me to my knees, and my son to an early grave.



And now, here I sit, the essence of all my hate simply waiting for me to make my move. I don't know how long I've been here; how long my heart has hated me for not simply walking away and never looking back. But I couldn't do that, could I? No. It's bait is too tempting, and I am a wild animal that has tasted blood.



At long last I make my move, curling my once strong fingers fragilely around the thing. An icy sensation spikes through my finger tips- and I'm hooked. My throat suddenly feels like a desert, dry and begging for release. My brain, my very thoughts, insist that everything will be alright. My heart's argument is muffled by addiction.



The glass touches my lips, and with the sweet taste of alcohol all of my problems fade away.