Humanity, a rose as fragile as glass

I raised the rose from the ashes of despair. The thorns piercing my skin, but i held it tighter. I whisper to it: "a beauty such as you does not belong in this wasteland". For it did not. A rose grown from ash. The most beautiful of its kind. The ashes dispersed yet the shadows grew: "why do you take this rose? Do you not see how it pierces your skin? How it eats at your flesh? It is ours and ours alone. It does not require your assistance". The shadows hiss as i answer: "I will not let you take this rose as you had once taken me, with my life i guard it. For it is too precious to fall into your hands." The shadows lay low and watch me leave their retched domain. The delicate flower, forever holding the essence of humanity, lives on within me to this day.

Who is who

Ok before anyone goes all troll and say "oh the title is too confusing", yes, i know it is confusing.  Kinda fits the theme here so deal with it.
Anyway so lately i've been considering alot of things, but mostly about who i am; and for that matter who are you.  Individuals are not really defined in a specific way other than how they are perceived by others.  Yes you're own opinion matters but when someone wants to know something about you they usually go to your friends so what do your friends really say? Just as beauty is in the eye of the beholder so is truth a matter of perspective.  A truth for one person may in fact not be the same to another.  Just as an example 2 people are stranded alone on a desert island.  No food and no other means of survival other than to eat each other.  To some this is seen as cannibalism.  To them it was their natural instincts kicking in and telling them they must survive.
So what is a truth? I guess a truth would have to be a fact.  Something that no matter who says it or how many times it is said it does not change.  For example saying that this note exists is a fact.  Saying the note is meaningful may be true to me but not to others therefore truth is unreliable.
So where does this all fit in with knowing oneself? Well is what we know about ourselves a fact? Or a truth? There are some things we know about ourselves which in fact are facts such as unavoidable behaviour usually caused by our natural instincts such as greed and there are aspects or our behaviour that we have been taught and have stuck with us therefore altering our individual personalities such as being sympathetic.
Even our own truths as to who we are is not only subject to change due to experiences but they are also a matter of perspective.  Therefore saying "i know myself better than you do" or "you don't know me" are both true and false.  Basically, humans are not aware of their own true nature and probably never will be.  We can only base what we are on the truths that surround us but instead we must forget the truths and think of the facts.  What are these facts? Well.....no idea.
Alright so that's my note of the week or month or.......year.......i really dunno if i'll continue these.  If anyone reads this leave a comment of your own opinion and also if you think i should make more like/comment saying you do and i'll make these more frequent.

Addiction thou art a cruel mistress

One night I awoke to a strange feeling. A tapping on my consciousness. I dismissed it as the beginnings of a headache so I drifted back off to sleep....but it wouldn't stop. I opened my eyes to see a glow from the window. I stood up and walked over to see a bright light on the street, and within the bright light was....a creature. She turned to look at me and her face was beauty incarnate. Her smile as bright as the sun, her eyes.....oh those wondrous eyes, radiating colours of all sorts. She took two steps closer, walking as majestically and gracefully as a queen, her hair flowing in the wake of the power she emanated. She was a being I should fear but I did not. A warmth filled me up and I looked away, not daring to even think of this wonderful being in front of me. She giggled and said "Are you going to let me in? Or will I have to drag you out?" Speechless I scrambled to the door and walked out to eternal bliss......or so I thought. The minute I walked out I embraced her, and she morphed, scales grew where her skin was, her body elongated and her feathers fell off to reveal revolting dark wings created by shadows, faces within them screaming for release. Her heavenly face grew two eight foot horns, fangs, her now yellow pupils turned to slits, as her face darkned to match her chaotic wings. "YOU ARE MINE" she yelled, "NOW AND FOREVER". I tried to get away but a claw emerged from her torso and speared me through the heart to drag me to her, engulfing me into her body of despair...

The darkness

As he sits at his desk he opens his laptop. The windows logo welcoming him.....to what? He sees nothing but darkness. The darkness that enveloped him years ago still surrounds him like fog. It whispers things he wishes not to understand nor accept. He wishes not to be a creature of the night, the spawn of the evil one and yet cannot help but feel so. A dread falls over him as does a sudden flash upon realization that the darkness is overwhelming him. The light? None. For in the tunnel he now travels, is the one place that light cannot go. He falls to a deep sleep as the essence of his being escapes him. The darkness has descended. The darkness has claimed its victim. The darkness.......is pleased.

He drifts in the darkness, wondering what is to become of him.  His tortured soul writhing in agony as demons and terrors too gruesome for the human mind to even begin to comprehend; attacked him, clawed at him, left their cold spit on him and reduced him from a proud man to a pathetic rag doll.  They finally had him, they could finally do what they want with him.  He was theirs.  Suddenly a roar echoes through, the demons runaway panicking as the man is pulled upwards.

He arises from the shadows of darkness and finally sees a light.....and beyond this light there are endless dimensions. Some full of pain, some full of pleasure, some full of happiness and some filled with disaster. He hear a voice inside his head whispering, "all futures are yours and yet mine, their power over you is only equal to the power you give yourself". As this happens he turns to see a scale. And an eye. Watching with no emotion. A calm and collected conscience neither aiding nor abandoning, merely observing. A voice rings in the man's head. Death or glory. Which do you choose? Before an answer can be given a blinding light. Darkness. And then light again as he opens his eyes to the possibilities of endless universes. Each with a unique and equally probable future.