[mature] things we never thought we could be, adna

[bethlehem]

sometimes i wonder, will god ever forgive us for what we've done to each other? B E T H L E H E M then i look around and realize, god left this place a long time ago She is bringing him face-to-face with questions he’s never wanted the answers to. He swallows thickly. She does not look away, but he does. He looks away and he drags in a shaky breath. That dark thing that lives in the pit of his gut rears its ugly head and he thinks that he’d rather go back to the moment just after he’d opened his eyes and she’d spit her vitriol at him. And he’d had it in him to smirk. Because there had been humor in it. But there is no humor in this. He can feel the vise tightening around his throat again. It is only a matter of time before it arrests the air in his lungs, he knows. Maybe this is why he looks away. Because to look her in the eye might mean that he will have no choice but to confront all of the things that have led him here. He will have to spend any amount of time considering the fact that he’d taken to walking in pursuit of something – not a home, certainly, but something. He looks away because he is afraid, perhaps, that she might be able to see through him to the storm cloud brewing underneath. Because the darkness lives in him but he has never worn it well. He has forgotten, by now, the sound that had ripped the rust out of his throat. The frustration that had swelled to near bursting at the very center of him.  The rabid hopelessness that laid him to waste. “After awhile, you’ll find that ‘home’ doesn’t mean anything at all,” he says. This is his truth laid bare. How he loathes the sight of it. It leaves a bitter aftertaste on his tongue long after he’s spoken the words out loud. “In fact, you’ll find that there is precious little in this world that means anything at all.”