Disaster

I'm going to attempt to start blogging more regularly again. For now, just popping into share a little something I wrote earlier in my half-sleep.


Sometimes bombs fall quietly and sometimes explosions don't happen when you expect them to. And sometimes they do, but by then you're already ten feet below ground.

And that doesn't make you safe, it just makes you prepared and maybe a little bit foolish for thinking you were so far in that disaster couldn't touch you.

Disaster can always touch you. It can hold your hand one night and use those very same fingers to rip your heart out the next morning.

And it will hurt like hell and the hard metallic taste of betrayal will linger in your mouth, but it won't kill you.

Disaster never kills. It only damages beyond reparation. And it doesn't discriminate and it doesn't make exceptions. You can't send it a honey-coated plea to pretend you're not there and pass you by. Disaster touches everyone. 

At some point or another, Disaster will look you square in the eye -- and maybe even smile -- while it tears you to pieces. And you won't necessarily know when, but it never hurts to be prepared. Just don't get cocky and think that you're safe. Because you're not. And you never will be. 

Sometimes bombs fall quietly. And sometimes, so do people. And sometimes love looks a lot like disaster.