The Art of Human Violence

If that isn't already a title of a book, I swear I'm going to write that one day. I'm sitting here at my laptop in my room at 11:30 in the evening listening to some of the most relaxing music I've ever heard, and yet my heart is beating against my chest like a million amplifiers. I'm sitting here trying to make reason out of the very real act of violence and hatred.

I come home today from a very full, very fun afternoon and evening with some of my closest friends to hear that one of them is in a very dangerous situation tonight. He is currently holed up in his room, begging support from fellow friends, praying to a God that he may or may not believe in, and overlooking a small cache of dismantled weapons for fear of what might happen to his family. A certain person at his house has fallen slave to the demon drink, and has caused a sort of dangerous situation at his home. The sad part is: My good friend can't and won't leave the house.

What is going on through that man's mind right now, hmm? What evil possession is taking over this man's consciousness to do such a thing? I mean, that is the only explanation I can see; that this man must be possessed. What person would voluntarily do this to his own blood? I don't know. It makes me angry to think about it too, because this kid is such a nice person and has had to go through a lot. He doesn't deserve this; nobody deserves this. Yet it happens all the time. Why though? When Adam & Eve ate the apple, was that really my friend's fault? Is his punishment being locked in a room with several weapons praying that his drunken family member won't try and attack him next?

It scares me. I'm scared for him, and there's nothing I can do about it. My friend has asked me to pray for him and that's exactly what I'm going to do, because that's the only thing I can do. What a world we live in, huh? Praying to live long enough to see the light break the darkness of the previous day. It seems a bit unfair to me but, then again, when was life ever fair?