Differences

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she screamed.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't..... don't..... mean to that.... do that" you slur in a drunken haze.
Suddenly the room quietens, and you get glares, from everyone. Everyone's stopped to look at you, some in pity, but most in disgust, and undisguised hatred. You stumble, your vision not what it should have been. You trip, and fall, and no one makes any motion to help you. Someone walks up to you, and picks you up, with an iron grip you would have winced at were you sober. The next thing you know you're on the street. You hear snatches of conversation ".... fucking brownshit...." ".... motherfucking shitbloods...." ".... who the fuck does he think he is fouling my house?" You don't notice; you're too drunk. Parts of your clothing are missing, mainly your jacket. You're freezing, but you don't notice. You stumble across the road, and through the snow in nothing but a sweat soaked shirt thats freezing up quickly, and a dirty pair of pants. You stumble all the way back to your dorm, and somehow make it through to your room. You pass out on the ground, wincing in pain now. The cold sobered you up, and various wounds come to life with a vengeance. The rest of the night is unsurpassed torture. As you sober up more, the pain gets worse. Memories return, and you blanch with self-disgust.
"Fuck..... what have I done?" passes through your mind, again, and again, and again.
In the darkness, you begin to weep, tears passing down your semi frozen face. So far away from home, you made a mistake. So far from the safety of your net you slipped up. Who is willing to help? Who will reach their hand across the gaping chasm of racism and help you out? No one, comes the booming answer in your head.
"I'm all fucking alone. Completely alone. What now? Who the fuck do I turn to? What the fuck do I do?"
The pain gets worse, and the night shrouds you in its dangrous blanket. There is no way out, nowhere left to go. You can't run away, you can't stay. You weep, and cry, and pray the sun doesn't rise. Differences. Really. Hurt.

Throwaway

When you're so close to making a mistake, to falling into the ground, to feeling like there is no way out but this, do you take it? Your life is perfect, you have everything you could ever dream of wanting, but you want more. You want everything, everything that you could possibly have. Everything that God created, you want. You forget what's in your hand to reach out to the forbidden fruit. Reason and logic desert you in your manic search for everything, your desire to possess insurpassable power. You take it, and everything turns to dust, everything in your hand crumbles and falls to the ground, worthless and dead. You turn back with your heart in your mouth, knowing that the world as you know it is turning against you, faster and faster. The pillars of light in the distance darken, and fade. Malice, pain, suffering, death and hatred fly into your soul, and despair takes over. You fall, fall for what seems eternity, and then just ask you think that the ground will never come, it shatters your spine. Writhing in bodily pain, you scream, and yell, and no one comes to help. You're drowning in a pool of quick sand. Your lungs fill with sand as you scream in terror. No one comes.

Freedom - The beginning.

The boy stared at his hands. The gnarly brown appendages he was given by God. He looked at them, probing them for some fault. For some mistake. Why was it him? The glory of the civilisations had come to rest in the Cradle of Life, and the Cradle chose him to be Keeper. A feather, a scroll, a mask and a sword. The worlds had ended, the universe had restarted its timers, and in those possessions was the power of the galaxies. The boy was given this power. The Gods had picked him for a task that he knew nothing off. He figured that the answer lay in his hands. On his knees, in the barren wasteland of an alien world. The boy stared stoicly at his hands. He knew that everything was over, and that his life was about to change. He just took it in, and didn't say anything. He didn't cry, he didn't laugh. He just watched, soaking in the strange world, the landscape, the heavens. The boy was witnessing the Beginning. Things began to change rapidly around him. Mountains formed and collapsed. Rivers flowed, and ran dry. Life forms writhed on the ground only to evolve and die. He watched, taking it all in, storing it in his brain as fast as he was taking it in. The worlds, the cosmos, the galaxies, the suns, the stars, all beginning. This was where it all began. He stood in the middle of the unvirse, taking everything in, from every single planet.
When everything had basically formed, the clock resumed, and time began to step through its neverending journey. The boy looked around; he was standing in a grassy glade on some planet. As he watched, a figure materialised in front of him. A beatiful female figure, clothed in nothing but a single red strip of cloth that ran between her legs and covered her breasts. She was the most beautiful thing ever, and she smiled it him. He felt his first emotion: bliss. She spoke, and he closed his ears as soon as she was done, so as to capture the beautiful sound.
"You will be called Nemo."