What’s your trigger? We all have them? Some trigger something good inside of us and some well trigger something else. My trigger for every emotional outburst whether good or bad is when I hear, “Shed a tear when I am missing you” which is more powerful when it is sung by Chris Cornell. The words, the imagery. Everything he stirs inside me comes from a place we will never know. If it is true what conspiracy theorists are saying his biggest sin was trying to save our children. When I hear his words I have to cry. The feeling of salvation that will never come because there are those in control that we will never be held accountable for their monstrous acts, at least in this lifetime. When they expose themselves to increase their numbers sometimes they come up against a brick wall. Sometimes that is where the cover up begins. These same people who hunt and victimize our children usually don’t stop there. They have this hate for all mankind that allows them to believe that they are somehow worth more than any and all of us all combined.
“Said woman take it slow. It’ll work itself out fine.” Everyday is just a step towards eternity. I don’t want to run to fast to get there out of fear of missing out on something incredible along the way. I feel moved by the lives of others that tried to live their lives differently The ones who had the courage to say “There something ain’t right here. That sh*t ain’t normal”. Not many of us can say that. So many of us get the feels that something ain’t right but we push them to the back of our minds not sure what to think. There are those that appear in our lives for no reason. We regard them as a beacon, some sort of hope that maybe one day we can get it just right. What ends up happening to me though is I long for something more, something that is out of my sight. The love that I had once shared with friends and family still lives on inside of me. I relive the moments where we were happiest. Where laughter was the remedy and the shortest distance between friends was just a shooting star a way. A wish never comes true if we aren’t prepared t put in the work. How incredibly reassuring when we are blessed from an entity out of our reach.
“Was a time when I wasn’t sure, but you set my mind at ease.” There are times when I am still not sure and times when I am finally feeling at ease. If some of the greatest lives I have ever known walked through that pearly gate with integrity and honour then so to can I. My Great Grandmother’s last words were “Open the gates to heaven.” When our time comes there is no escaping it. I just hope that we can find a way to live in a world where other’s lives held the same value. Imagine an existence where humanity vowed to keep you away from harm because we all had living our best lives as our interest. There would be no satisfaction of watching another crumble in the eyes of the public. Instead of watching somebody’s horror be brought to life we would help them fight their demons so they can once again find a away to smile. Instead of running the opposite way when it comes to people we fear we can stand together in unity and say “not today Satan, not today” How can we expect that others would care about our safety? How could we expect that once we bring our tormentor into the public eye that other’s would feel our pain. Unless that person is doing the exact same thing to another nobody in the room will notice. That is why the cry resonates through all the ages. How many of us have this urge for another being to notice us if even for just a minute. I get so wound up in my own day to day I barely have time to notice myself.
“Sometimes I get so tense, but I can’t speed up the time.” Time seems so vast al things consider until it is the last second of our lives. Especially in these times. I fear for the day when things go back to normal. At times I want to sprint right through the next few years so I can remember how to feel. Witnessing the lack of human compassion threaded into the day to day makes me uneasy and at times makes me so easily irritated I just want to scream. Sometimes I stay so quiet that I hope nobody sees me. I used to wake everyday filled with so much opportunity and promise but now the fog in my brain is almost at a standstill. I remember the movements because it has become part of my routing. I try not to waiver to far on either side because I don’t even know if I am ready to break or if my mind is ready to snap. Imagine hating your existence so much and the life you created with your partner that in the end all you could do was set it ablaze. Imagine surviving a domestic abuse situation, even winning in court to have your ex light your home ablaze just to prove a point. Here in Canada you can justify away any illegal act. I am not kidding you when I saw that there are killers walking amongst us that have served only a few years. Here in Canada as long as you show remorse we think you have served your time. We love to victimize the families who have loved their loved ones by having their killers roam free. We tried so hard to create a safe existence but we have no idea what that even means.
I remember hearing of my first wrongful conviction case when I was just a young girl. His name was Steven Trescott and he was sentenced to death for murdering his school friend. In 1959 the evidence against him was that he was the last person to see Lynn alive. He apparently gave her a ride home on his handlebars. Somewhere between the time he dropped her off and later that evening at her house she disappeared. We are so eager to distort the facts in order to make ourselves feel at ease. Well back then we were. That poor boy was ripped away from his family and served time for a crime he never committed. I remember in 2007 hearing that DNA evidence set him free. The best years of his life were spent behind bars just to appease the need of the community to have somebody pay for the crimes that resulted in death. It was easier to believe that a young man would do so instead of an older man in the community who saw a crime of opportunity knowing that the boy would be the one being accused. Imagine that. If all evidence was pointing the wrong way wouldn’t you think that it was staged that way by the true murderer? All I can say is the story rolls of the tongue a little to easy then there are so more facts that need to be uncovered. Real life brings terror into being because the human mind can’t fathom such inhumane acts.