Rage and Despair

okay, so i've been writing more on The Last Days, but it pretty much is a completely different story. here's the run-down so far:

The book takes place in a near-future earth, maybe 50 years in the future. It follows a girl who wakes up on a deserted street with no memories of her past when she is around 10. six years later, now running under the name of ghost, she finds that she is actually a member of a corrupt dictatorship organization thing, who erased her memory and transferred her mind into the mind of a ten-year old girl so that no one would find her after she ran away from this "Union". So, here's one of my favorite parts i've written:

Half a day had passed since I witnessed the murder, the sun has now set. I can still see the astonished face of Fredrick every time i close my eyes, and every time my heart accelerates with fear and anger. I move faster, faster then i ever had on the air board, praying for the nightmare to be lost behind me in the rushing wind. Yet still i wonder: am i Tanya, am i howling inside for the death of Fredrick? Yet i shake my head, chasing the despairing thoughts away from my mind. I am Ghost, I never new the man. Of course i cannot feel the pain Tanya would feel, the grief that she would have endured. Yet this only makes me more wounded, and the tears still swell from within my chest at the face of anguish as Fredrick's former love stabbed him through the heart...as I stabbed him through the heart.

It seems, to my imagination, that every path i have boarded, every person i have ever spoken to, holds a part of me. I have become worn, tired, dispersed. If i am to end my suffering, I must draw together my distant parts, selfishly, protectively. No matter what may occur, I must wrap all my sorrows inside, if i am to become Diamond hard. Impossible to wound, incapable of tears.
Stretching my arms high above my head, i inhale, bringing back the echos of the past, bringing them within the cold confines of my being. Past the torn fencing, in the graffiti-covered parks, they hear me. My scattered selves. They rise like the undead, given the chance of life again, and eagerly seek the call. All that i was, all that i once cast aside, comes back to me now, for i am wounded and must heal myself, must become strong once more. Even those attachments i once cared for- Mark, Athena, Nathan, Gabriell, they too must be wrapped within my cold, hard form. Feeling the loss, but determined to survive, i inhale a third time.

There are no longer any exposed parts of my being to harm me, to harm the ones i love. For i am, and will always be Ghost, and forever must i continue onward.

All is still, and yet i quiver with energy. With my eyes closed in concentration, i channel the vibrancy of my life force into my heart. Only six year of existence, but so much vitality. Denser now, my weaknesses fall into the core of my being. Pride goes first, followed by innocence. Love is harder to force down, but eventually i am left only the few motions needed to win this war, the war that rages both in the world around me and within my heart. I am left with two: Rage and Despair. Rage has a silver breastplate beneath her gown, she carries a sword and a crown of silent screams apon her head. Despair is veiled; in her hand she holds a mirror, the brooch of her cape is an opalescent lily. They frighten me, but i let them closer, they lift their arms and embrace me.
Oh, Mercy! they are fire and ice. I blaze and burn, my soul is slowly torn through and through. We cling tighter, and my suffering continues throughout the night. All nights must end, i tell myself. And so it does, with the light of dawn, banishing the creatures of my own creation, my own will. Within the heart of the sun lies the bane and salvation of man, the only thing that keeps us going through the darkness of our lives. And, with Rage and despair's departure, i am purged. With a startling realization, i find that the victory to this endless fight lies not within darkness, but with light.

I turn my board and dive into the light of the sun, hope in my steed.

We are all inventors, each sailing out on a voyage of discovery, guided each by a private chart, of which there is no duplicate. The world is all gates, all opportunities.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson