The Pain, The Spark and The Pen

It all started with a Pain in the chest, a Spark in the mind and a Pen in my hand.

That Pain; it sat like a burden in my heart. It would make me sick in the pit of my stomach, right at the bottom where you couldn't even reach it. That Pain; like a sick child, who just didn't want help, no matter what. That Pain accepted life and said, "this is what I was brought into and this is what I will be." That Pain; chose my heart as a home, covered itself with my chest and would feed off of my love. That Pain that would hurt so bad, I hated it. It tormented me and raged me but... if I released it, where would it go? who would know it ever existed? would it just roam until it found another heart to break? That Pain, was safer inside. So The Body made a home for Pain, but now what? Something had to try discipline it, had to try contain it, make sure it never reigned. *light bulb moment* The first Spark. That, that there was the first Spark. The mind, was a room to the Spark we call mother; the one with solutions, the one who reacted and responded from a child's action without even being summoned. However, no matter how big a Spark, it needs a partner, one that will implement the Spark. But who? There was nothing, just That Spark.

That Spark; was like a nurturing mother, stressing about how to feed a hungry child. Every time That Pain got worse, the mind would Spark brighter, but there was no answers. That Spark, fiending for someone to notice that it needs help. Like a single mother needs a husband; like every child needs a father. That Spark; crying and screaming in the mind; like a mother in her room on the hardest day, with That Pain; her sick child in the basement of the heart. Held captive to its own burdens that she didn't even bare. Bad fruit that was planted and grew out of the love of That Spark. But that love wasn't being watered. That Pain in my chest grew stronger and more powerful and as it got older, overpowered the house; the mind; That Spark. Pain had nobody, and that body that held him, that heart that fed him, that mind that would comfort him; That Pain controlled it. Now That Pain feeling tough like it had somebody. No. Pain was My Body.

That Spark would keep coming, but That Pain would block it, "STOP!" That Pain would be furious that That Spark wanted a way out. This started making That Pain rebellious. As That Pain was reaching adolescence it would turn to anger and control the body and throw itself into tantrums filled with rage; a terrorist. That Pain would control all the hormones and make them explode. That Pain had an army that made anybody fearful, That Pain was now King. Until one day, while Pain was asleep the hormones that had gone to war with the world came home, That Spark was free to roam for a while and decided to pick up a pen. Not any pen, no; That Pen.

That Pen; so helpless and useless without the body, just an inanimate object, but when That Spark told the body pick it up; I could feel blood rushing back into dry veins. There was magic, there was a connection. That Pen. It felt like an answer to all the solutions; like a beautiful end to a tragic beginning, it felt like a way out, it felt like... THE way out. The exit to the dark tunnel that That Spark had been looking for, that That Spark hid in the beginning just to keep Pain safe. A Pen in my hand.

That Pen in my hand caused thoughts from the Spark to intersect and manoeuvre, trying to get, no longer to the tip of my tongue, but the veins of my hand. Which would allow these thoughts to turn to words; written; marked; stained. All that stress of not knowing where Pain would go, where Pain would live, and who would know if Pain even existed could now find out. Exhausted of being spoken and forgotten or not heard, they needed permanence, something that proved they were worthy, that maybe, not today. but one day. just one, That Pain wouldn't roam free, That Pain wouldn't hurt no more, but be proof that it lived and it left a mark. A mark of ink.

That Pain woke up instantly when it sensed an exit, a way out, something that That Spark was up to... something without its permission. as That Spark started learning the power of the Pen, That Pain raged and started rushing through, organs, trying to find the vein; flowing out and spilling out on to a clean blank page as ink. Never to be removed, never to be forgotten, to forever leave a scar.

All by picking up That Pen.
WELCOME TO THE DARKEST PART OF THE BRIGHTEST MIND