*I am not a young writer, but I took the advice anyway.
My duality is a weapon of destruction. The light splinters me, biting into my soul’s brittle darkness. Or perhaps my vast depth of sin shatters the sun that tries to breach my defenses, an ocean of mountainous terrain. The secrets sequestered behind my eyes threaten to detonate and cause a tsunami of pain for innocent bystanders that naively believe they love me. I am too flawed to be rewarded life’s truest pleasure. My selfishness knows no bounds. My passion possesses too much power. I have a heart of gold, tarnished and green with envy. My physical scars run so much deeper than the surface of my skin. They are jagged ravines that are splashed with anger and cannot contain the pain, mine or my victims’. My weaknesses are numerous with my greatest one being my strength.
I wield words to protect myself … from myself. But in many instances, it is no different than pushing a needle of morphine into a vein that can no longer be numbed. What am I most afraid of? For anyone to know me as I know myself. Or to be offered forgiveness when I thrive on the unforgivable.