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About This Author
I am a 40 year old married mother of two teenage boys. I live for writing, especially romance. Love the happily ever after scenerio. The best thing about writing for me is the ability to lose yourself in your work, and feel as if you've accomplished something great. At the end of the day, that's all that really matters.
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INXS X #1071125 added June 30, 2024 at 2:29pm
Restrictions: None
Who Pays the Price
Standing in the serving line, I feel a sense of accomplishment, but the frustration of societal issues overshadows it. I didn't organize this event, but I did show up to try and give back, to help raise awareness and money for charity. Each time I've come to grips with the harsh realities of our world and my limited ability to change it, something significant happens, and I find myself back at square one. It's a neverending cycle of war, depression, starvation, and heartache without any clear resolution. But those in power never pay the price for the mistakes they make and unleash upon the rest of the world.
I see them. Those people who claim to be pro-life yet sit back and do nothing while innocents are dying. The ones who use their good book to determine their lives use it as a weapon against the rest of us because we choose something different, like equality, justice, and love. The teachings are disregarded, and they are blinded by hate and misinformation to see it. It's not my job to show them the errors in their ways.
What would it take to bring the world together? Is it possible? From my vantage point, I see their entitlement. It's in everything they say and do, yet when faced with suffering, homelessness, the poor, and wars, suddenly, they show you who they indeed are: fake leaders, the rich who crave more—more power, more money, more objects to prove how successful they are. They are nothing more than a bunch of selfish pricks, servants to the dollar. Watching the hypocrisy makes me ill, yet here I am, doing my best to try and help in these small, insignificant ways.
As the event winds down, I head through the kitchen, stand at the open door, and pull a cigarette from my pocket. I need it. It's my stress reliever, though I know how bad it is for me. This is my one vice, and I take comfort in it, like someone who takes comfort in a loved one.
I light the end and take that first drag, closing my eyes, keen to listen to the sounds around me, savoring that first hit before directing my attention back to the outside world. Traffic moves as I watch the cars, from the noisy, beaten-up machines to the flashy and fancy, a true testament to today's world. I refer to them as haves and have-nots.
Screeching tires alert me to something coming, and as I stand there watching, I realize an out-of-control car is headed straight for me. I'm paralyzed. I know it's moving closer, yet I'm like a deer caught in the headlights. My brain knows danger is near, but my body is slow to respond to the command to move and get out of the way.
"Look out," a voice yells. Hands grab my waist and pull me back into the kitchen as the careening car hits the doorway with a thunderous crash of metal and wood.
I stare in disbelief, still unable to fully process what just happened.
In that brief moment, I turned and smiled at Jason, thankful that he had saved me when fear had frozen my feet to the ground.
"Are you all right," he asked.
I can only nod.
The creaking of metal grabs our attention as the driver opens his door and exits the wreckage, surveying the damage. The smell of antifreeze dripping from the mangled radiator permeates the kitchen.
"My car!" he shouts, followed by a curse-filled rant about how he's supposed to get around now.
Jason and I look at each other, Jason shaking his head before moving forward.
"Hey, are you okay? Jason asks the other man.
He scoffs. "Do I look all right? I just totaled my damn car."
I realize the man is more concerned about his property and oblivious to the fact that he could've killed me.
Jason moves to the phone and calls the police, alerting them to the accident.
"What are you doing?" the man screams.
"No, there are no injuries, but the car crashed into a building. Thank you," Jason says, hangs up the phone, and turns back to me.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yes, thanks to you," I say.
"Hello. I asked you a question," the angry man says.
Jason grabs my hand and pulls me further into the kitchen, away from the angry man pacing outside and around his car.
"Can you believe that guy?" Jason says. "Every time I think things can't get any worse, another idiot proves me wrong."
I can't help but laugh, finding a kindred spirit. "Yeah, I get that, but thanks to you, I caught a glimpse of what's right with the world, so thank you."
"You're welcome."
WC: 795
Who Pays The Price
Yes, it's dark sometimes, the people are shoving
Pushing you into the ground
And you cry in the daylight, the sun in your eyes
Even though you know you're not alone
And it's all been felt before
You stare out through your window
And wonder if there's gonna be more
It brings you down
It's like a war
Who pays the price
If you want more? (Oh, yeah, yeah, hey-hey)
It's the quiet desperation of a million lives
Gonna make you change your way
We got everything we wanted but forgot how we got it
Just can't paint it golden anyway
And the strength of all you're giving
Is gonna make the changes
If tomorrow's gonna bring a new day
Yeah, it brings you down
It's like a war
Who pays the price
If you want more? (Hey-hey)
Yeah, as the years go by, will it show on your face
Or stay hidden behind some door?
Yeah, you made your resolutions with the will of a priest
But you're not so sure anymore
And the reasons why you're living
Keep changing
Every time you find a key, you find more
It brings you down
It's like a war
Who pays the price
If you want more?
It brings you down, down
It's like a war
Who pays the price, yeah
If you want more?
It brings you down
It's like a war
Who pays the price
If you want more? (What ya want more for?)
Hey-hey
Hey-hey
Hey-hey
Hey-hey |
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