In your darkest moments.

The truth. The very thing that we all seek each day, and yet, it seems so elusive throughout the world. So hard to comprehend. So difficult to discover. The wind comes and the wind goes, back and forward, to and fro, and yet its course is never certain, its patterns of movement so difficult to comprehend. All throughout the world, in the grand scheme of things in all its complexity and intricacies, how does one find the truth? How does someone know what is true and what is not, when truth can be so hard to apply in our everyday lives?

The days went by and the riots continued. The streets held the terrible performance of dancing flames upon the asphalt, and the windows of cars were both cracked and totally smashed. The sound of rioters with fists in the air chanting what their hearts desired, incapable of seeing anything else otherwise while the alarms of cars sounded off into the heavens. I strode by, an innocent passerby as the violence continued, my headphones in my ears with no music playing. Simply observing the daily chaos, comprehending the repetitive acts of violence carried out each day.

“SMASH THIS WINDOW! LET’S GET THESE T.V.s AND TAKE EVERYTHING ELSE IN IT! HIT IT HARD, BOYS!” a hooded man cackled. The sound of a baseball bat smashing through the glass followed by cheers arose in the air, the streets filled with dust and debri now filled with shattered glass shards that fell from the business. “NO, PLEASE DON’T!” the Shopkeeper begged as the rioters came to lay claim to the spoils.

I looked at those looting and stealing, and sorrow filled my heart. It was difficult to even watch this once, let alone on a day to day basis. I strolled down the street corner as women were cheering the violence. “WHAT? WHAT, BOY? YOU GOT SOMETHING TO SAY?” A masked rioter said as he assaulted a young man. The young man fell to the floor, the blood flowing from his face as the women mocked and scorned his pain. His cries and gasping unheard, drowned out by the constant violence.

I sighed again. “Day by day, this happens and no one attempts to stop it in fear of retaliation. How can I endure this life seeing such things? What can I do against all of this?” I thought to myself. I turned down an alleyway and found a door on the side of a brick wall. My hands slipped into my pockets, rustled through a bunch of junk and found my keys, and something precious. I pulled them both out, a key chain and a heart shaped locket attached to a gold chain necklace. My fingers pressed the button and my eyes fixed themselves on the words my daddy had given me. “No matter how bad the storm, hold your head up high!” the letters boldly declared. A tear droplet trickled down my face as I entered the building.

…

The sound of laughing on the t.v. permeated the living room as the sound of a creaking wooden door joined into the fray. My Mom turned around and smiled lightly, as I looked at her without any emotion. “How was your walk, Annie?” Mom asked me lightly. I groaned and sighed. “As terrible as always. The streets are always flooded with rioters who think they can take whatever they want, and get away with it without any thought of repercussions. Who think everyone and everything is subject to whatever they think is fair. It’s annoying,” I groaned. My mom frowned at me. Her eyes spoke of concern as always, while I ignored it as I always had before.

Mom arose from her recliner, robed in pink and covered in pink slippers. She tried to approach me but I was already wary of her. “Annie. I know it’s difficult to look at this and lose hope. I know how hard it can be to look at all that goes on, and wonder how life could be this hard. I know-,” Mom tried to comfort me, but I immediately lost it.

“NO! YOU DON’T KNOW! HOW CAN YOU UNDERSTAND? I’VE HAD TO WATCH THIS EVERY DAY OF MY LIFE! PLAYING THE GOOD GIRL WHILE THESE RIOTERS EAT AND DRINK LIKE KINGS, STEALING WHATEVER THEY WANT AND EVERYONE ELSE SUFFERS BECAUSE OF IT? HOW MUCH LONGER DO I HAVE TO WATCH THIS? HOW MUCH MORE DIFFICULT DOES LIFE HAVE TO BE BEFORE THINGS GET BETTER? I’M SO JUST, ARGH!” I screamed in fury.

I stumbled onto the wall from the pure amount of emotion, my arms on the wall and my forehead

My Mom started to shed tears, but she backed off immediately. “Annie, I know you’re frustrated at the immorality of it. It’s difficult for me to even hear about it, let alone see it day by day. Annie, if there’s something we can do, we can-,” Mom started to explain but I lost it again.

“THOSE NIHILISTIC MONSTERS THINK THAT EVERYTHING IS SUBJECT TO WHATEVER OUTCOME THEY WANT! AS IF EVERYTHING HAS TO HAPPEN ACCORDING TO EXACTLY HOW THEY WANT IT, AND EVERYONE JUST HAS TO ACCEPT IT! THAT THE FACTS ONLY MATTER WHEN IT APPLIES TO THEIR STRATEGY? THIS IS RIDICULOUS! HOW MUCH MORE DO WE HAVE TO SUFFER? HOW MUCH MORE DO WE HAVE TO ENDURE THIS ANARCHY?” I screamed desperately.

“Annie,” my Mom reinforced.

“MOM, I CAN’T DO THIS! HOW MUCH MORE DO I HAVE TO LIVE LIKE THIS?” I desperately asked.

“Annie!” my Mom reinforced a bit louder.

“I CAN’T LIVE LIKE THIS, I CAN’T-,” I attempted to repeat.

“ANNIE MARGARET JONES! LISTEN TO ME!” Mom shouted for the first time in my life. I stood still, my ears attentive to her words. “Your father was a police commissioner. He fought this kind of battle a long time ago, and he lost his life fighting it. What is that attached to your neck?” Mom demanded to know.

I looked down and clicked open the button and read the words another time. “No matter how bad the storm, hold your head up high!” I said out loud. Tears started to flow down my face as I started crying. “Your father gave you that when you were a little girl before he died, and he died fighting the very same thing you’re angry against. Do not let his sacrifices be in vain by yielding into despair,” Mom encouraged.

She held my head as I sobbed in her arms. “We need to be strong, no matter how bad the storm!” Mom said.

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