The Face of My Father

“I do not aim with my hand; he who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father.
I aim with my eye.

I do not shoot with my hand; he who shoots with his hand has forgotten the face of his father.
I shoot with my mind.

I do not kill with my gun; he who kills with his gun has forgotten the face of his father.
I kill with my heart.”

― Stephen King, The Gunslinger

Why does the gunslinger always follow the man in black across the desert?
Why does Frodo persist to Mount Doom when there are so many Orcs fighting him?
Why does Harry not turn away from Voldemort? Find another school? Be a muggle?
Why does Neo and Agent Smith continue their fight against each other?
Why hasn’t God simply snapped his finger and extinguish the Devil?

Why haven’t I simply let-go of a toxic person that appeared in my life four and a half years ago? Why do I persist? Why do I sit here with my face literally black and blue from pounding my own fists into the side of my own head last Tuesday. I feel like Edward Norton in Fight Club. This toxic person was not around for me to wail against and would NEVER consent to a face to face show down as she is toxic, angry and weak of mind and spirit. She has forgotten the face of her father. I have requested a meeting soooo many times. She refuses, so I fought the next closest person, myself.

I fought the only person that mattered. Myself. These toxic people that appear in my life are my whetting stone to sharpen myself against. They make me grow teeth to survive in this world. And don’t kid yourself with the new age namby-pamby soft words like, ‘the universe will take care of you’. No, it won’t. The universe will leave your corpse rotting in the desert while your bones turn to dust. The universe doesn’t give a rats-ass about you, get used to it. And if God wanted your life to be easy and carefree he/she/it would snap his fingers and all devils would be gone.

As it turns out, the only toxic person I fight…ya… you know who it is, fool. As I stand in front of the mirror seeing the bruises on my own face inflicted by my own hand, I laugh like a mad man. The toxic person I wail against is me. No one else. I can remove toxic people from my life until there are no more people on earth, but he and I will continue to chase each other across the desert, because I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN THE FACE OF MY FATHER.



2 thoughts on “The Face of My Father

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s