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It seemed to dance in and again my world was bright. I pondered the idea of rising. Eachand every new day made it less and less more reasonable to embrace the ambiguity of existence. Some would say that existence is the farthest thing from ambiguity, but I haveto disagree. Ambiguity and existence are practically synonyms, in my eyes, and thosewho think differently aren’t free thinkers at all and, therefore, merely waste their existence in a blind state of unknown ambiguity. When you learn to see throughambiguity and obtain true eyesight the world often resembled a lollypop, spherical andsugarcoated. To crunch away to the sugar center would be to abolish order and reason aswe know it, but what do we really know. This world is run by its politics, but when youlook at the big picture, politics is nothing but an opinion. Opinions. They are nothing butunstable favored ideals, yet we base a civilization on them. I have never been able tocomprehend any other life form, their actions, or their business besides myself. And eventhen, with myself, I sometimes don’t understand. God, heaven, angels, space, universes,galaxies, solar systems, planets, continents, countries, politics, politicians, civilians, parents, daughters, sons; who am I? Where do I fall? I am human. I am male. I like beingalone and reading. I like driving at night in artificially lit streets. I live alone and I eatalone and I sleep alone. I sometimes talk to myself or laugh to myself. I never wanted to be alienated. Things like that just happen without thinking. The more I slip intoconfinement, the more time I have to think about these topics that have plagued philosophers forever. My eyes tear to ponder the unknown, well, the unknown to theambiguously blinded majority. I think I might know the answers, though. They have beenright in front of us all this time.With my feet plastered to the floor I began to make my way out of the light. It seemed tofollow me into a dark corner, killing my shadow and in its attempt. The sunlight never appeared to be such a spiteful being until recently. It was a friend you somehow wrongedand now he wants you hurt. How depressing. Times like these make it hard for me not toquestion the relativity between the sun and I. Without it we’d all die, but why does itseem so angry towards me? How have I wronged it? Wait, is it listening-- can it hear me?Ridiculous. I brushed the idea from my mind, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. The idea of life after death is so hard to believe that I simply don’t believe it, but if that isn’t true thenwhat is the purpose of life? I stood for a moment and looked opened my blinds. To myshock I noticed a stream of dried blood fleeing from my left nostril. It flooded with themost beautiful relief imaginable.The sun is a determined being. He stared at me through my open window. I heard himlaugh so once more my blinds were closed. Though my shades, it still desired to enter into my world and brighten it. Though today it was particularly angered, the sun wasmuch like a mother figure and I will hold that against it. I made my way to my doorwayand glanced back at my window. Light, it is, indeed, a very curious force. Without it our species wouldn’t exist, but if it plays such an important role then what role did it play inthe beginning. Did god create light before mankind or did it all come together scientifically like we learned in ninth grade science way back when? If science is correctthere is no need for god. He only adds to the sugarcoating. The clouds passed over thesun, covering it and my room went dark. I savored the moment in silence, still half-asleepand full of the wonder of a new day.
 
I found myself not in my doorway anymore, but back onto my bed. My father woke me.He stood over my bed and whispered into my ear like he does most mornings, like he didthat night. He was gone when my eyes opened. I laid there, paralyzed, realizing I didn’teven remember walking back and getting into my bed. I got up again and wiped the sleepfrom my eyes before I embarked out of my room. As I reached for the doorknobsomething odd happened that I can’t quite explain. The clouds parted and the sun showndown into my window and hit the mirror on the wall next to me. It reflected across to thewall on the other side. When the reflected light hit the white wall it seemed to glow and Istood in an area engulfed in light. It was somewhat overwhelming and I thought to myself if this was how the gates of heaven were. I don’t think I’d ever know for sure. Myhallway was dark besides the light glowing through the window at the end. I heard mymother scream and I quickly turned my head in the direction it came from. This wasfollowed by the sound of two plates being broken against the wall. This was, indeed, asad house.My parents split up when I was fourteen about thirteen years ago. Everyday my dadwould come home from his job as a lawyer in the city and bust through those big frontdoors. I was always glad to see him. He was a very nice man and always treated me good.He would come through those doors and greet my mother and I with such warmth; it wasreally great now that I think back on it.“Are you alright, Jon?” I heard my mother’s voice echo through my head. The phrase ricocheted through my skull before exiting through my mouth:“No,” I said out loud, “I hope you’re fucking happy.”My mother looked so happy with my father, in fact, I know she was and so was I. Onenight I was in my room doing homework. It was probably around 7:00. I entered hisroom, which was down the hall and to the right from mine. It was big with a great big bedright in the center. There was a large closet that my mother and him shared across the leftwall of the room and dressers on the right side. When I was in his room I saw him on his bed with his head down. He had a letter in his hand and he couldn’t seem to take his eyesfrom it. The paper was new, crisp, and neatly folded. There was a ripped envelope on thefloor by his feet. It had dark dotted stains across it. His hands were quivering as hedropped the letter down to the envelope. I noticed the letter had the same stains on it andI then realized that they weren’t any normal stains: they were teardrops. He buried hisface into his hands as he hunched over and began to sob. I stood there for a momentlooking onto him with such sadness and respect. I didn’t know what else to do. I juststood there and watched and before I knew it my eyes were tearing. I walked toward himand laid my hand onto his leg. He then turned to me and embraced me. It was the most powerful embrace I have ever felt. He hugged me and cried and soon I was crying. He began whispering in my ear, “I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I just… I just,” his voice brokewith a sob, “I just can’t help it. I love her… I do… I just… oh god.” He squeezed metighter with each sob and it seemed to squeeze the tears out of me. I was sorry to, but Ididn’t know why. “I just want you to know,” he looked up at me with his sad eyes. Ilooked as though he hasn’t slept in days; instead, it looked like he has been up crying for 
 
days, “I want you to know that I will always love you two. Nothing will change that. Nothing.”“You told me you were going to Boston, you fucking son of a bitch,” my momscreamed. “You were going to Boston on business and I find you with a fucking gun inyour mouth, you smug fucker!” I heard another dinner plate crash as I tried tocomprehend what she was saying. This isn’t real, I thought, I am alone in this house. “Iwant you out of this house! I want you out now!” I want nothing more, but for her tocease.“Shut the fuck up, mom, you fucking pig. I want you butchered like the swine youare, you fucking whore!” My mother is a whore. A no good whore.It was after I found my father weeping in his room when I learned that he and my mother have been having some misunderstandings. They tried to keep it secret from me, but Iheard them argue. They simply didn’t love each other the way they used to anymore. Hefolded the letter and turned to walk out of the room. I was sitting on his bed the wholetime, unmoving, but this was too heavy for me to handle and I fell to my side. “Dad,” Icalled. My voice was weak and weeping, “Can you shut the light off?” He stood in thedoorway and looked at me. He seemed to smile a little which made me feel better andanswered, “Sure son, sure I’ll shut the light off.” I laid on his bed for about an hour. Icried off and on, but mainly I just laid there and thought. I thought about him and mymother. I thought about how they put on an act in front of me. I thought about everymorning how they would kiss each other before my dad left and how my mother used tosmile at his jokes during dinner. I couldn’t help but also think of the future and, though Iwasn’t completely sure what was happening, I knew he was leaving the house. It wasthen I had my first suicidal thought. I thought of killing myself in a final attempt to bringthem back together. Maybe grieving over my death together would help fix the problem because, maybe, I was the problem. I reached up to the top of the bed and grabbed myfather’s pillow. I pulled it in toward me and buried my face into it. The pillow smelled of him so much that, again, I couldn’t stop crying.My mother began to sob. I heard the door open and close behind my father. Iheard my mother pull up a chair at the kitchen table and sob.The days after seemed fleeting. My mother sat me down and explained that they werehaving their differences and my father was going away for a while. I sat and stared at her knowing it was her that initiated the split up. How could she do that to our family, myfather? Days after that he left us. I stood in the front yard and watched him lay his bagsinto the trunk of the taxi and thought about god. Why wouldn’t he stop this? If he knewall he’d know my dad was a great person and that I needed him very much. Whywouldn’t he give me a miracle? My dad slapped the trunk shut and looked up at me withthe same eyes he had the night we cried on his bed. He gave me a smile. I saw rightthrough it. It was merely an attempt to keep my strong, but I didn’t smile back instead Istood and stared. He walked up to me, smiled and said, “I’ll be back before you know it.”He never returned. “I love you, pal.” I stood with my eyes closed. I couldn’t watch himget into the cab, but I don’t think I could have anyway, for my eyes were full of tears. I
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