You can’t understand why he picked up the chisel in the first place. We weren’t raised this way. We haven’t been abused or damaged or misdirected. We’ve been taught proper morals and ethics. Yet here he is, so tempted by the power of the chisel that it is irresistible, and in his mind it is nothing that will take him beyond control. He feels he is above it, his cocky self-assurance overriding reason. He is the exception. Until one day, somehow it all slips through his fingers. And the chisel is now the one in control. But he won’t ever admit this. At first, it isn’t so awful, and maybe even undetectable by the trusting heart. But slowly, the sneaky chisel promotes lies, betrayal, disregard for loved ones. The chisel stands tall, making its mark as the mighty leader. And it leads to the point that everything and everyone of value is practically gone. At some point, the weight of the chisel becomes too much to bear, so he puts it down and desperately tries to walk away. Oh but in this act, somehow that chisel grows in power. Tempting. Taunting. Begging for another chance. And the urge is one he cannot resist. He is forever tied to that chisel. So he picks it up again, and digs deeper, further into darkness. Despite efforts to delve into other areas of positivity, the repercussions of interacting with the chisel are too great, too significant for his cocky self-assurance to persist, and he gives in. He is too deep, and he resolves there is only one way out. Unconventional. Misunderstood. Heartbreaking. He voluntarily ends the life led to him by the chisel. You grapple with this. Daily sadness hovers. Outsiders presume there must be some relief to finally having an end to the burden of life with the chisel. However, you know that peace is a far cry from what’s left behind. After all, that little man with the chisel was inside you, slowly chipping away. Emptiness now resides, allowing a gaping hole for pain, confusion, and sorrow. How you hate that damn chisel.
The Little Man with a Chisel
Having a sibling who suffers from addiction is like having a little man inside you chiseling away at your soul. You can’t understand why he picked up the chisel in the first place. We weren’t raised this way. We haven’t been abused or damaged or misdirected. We’ve been taught proper morals and ethics. Yet here he is, so tempted by the power of the chisel that it is irresistible, and in his mind it is nothing that will take him beyond control. He feels he is above it, his cocky self-assurance overriding reason. He is the exception. Until one day, somehow it all slips through his fingers. And the chisel is now the one in control. But he won’t ever admit this. At first, it isn’t so awful, and maybe even undetectable by the trusting heart. But slowly, the sneaky chisel promotes lies, betrayal, disregard for loved ones. The chisel stands tall, making its mark as the mighty leader. And it leads to the point that everything and everyone of value is practically gone. At some point, the weight of the chisel becomes too much to bear, so he puts it down and desperately tries to walk away. Oh but in this act, somehow that chisel grows in power. Tempting. Taunting. Begging for another chance. And the urge is one he cannot resist. He is forever tied to that chisel. So he picks it up again, and digs deeper, further into darkness. Despite efforts to delve into other areas of positivity, the repercussions of interacting with the chisel are too great, too significant for his cocky self-assurance to persist, and he gives in. He is too deep, and he resolves there is only one way out. Unconventional. Misunderstood. Heartbreaking. He voluntarily ends the life led to him by the chisel. You grapple with this. Daily sadness hovers. Outsiders presume there must be some relief to finally having an end to the burden of life with the chisel. However, you know that peace is a far cry from what’s left behind. After all, that little man with the chisel was inside you, slowly chipping away. Emptiness now resides, allowing a gaping hole for pain, confusion, and sorrow. How you hate that damn chisel.
You can’t understand why he picked up the chisel in the first place. We weren’t raised this way. We haven’t been abused or damaged or misdirected. We’ve been taught proper morals and ethics. Yet here he is, so tempted by the power of the chisel that it is irresistible, and in his mind it is nothing that will take him beyond control. He feels he is above it, his cocky self-assurance overriding reason. He is the exception. Until one day, somehow it all slips through his fingers. And the chisel is now the one in control. But he won’t ever admit this. At first, it isn’t so awful, and maybe even undetectable by the trusting heart. But slowly, the sneaky chisel promotes lies, betrayal, disregard for loved ones. The chisel stands tall, making its mark as the mighty leader. And it leads to the point that everything and everyone of value is practically gone. At some point, the weight of the chisel becomes too much to bear, so he puts it down and desperately tries to walk away. Oh but in this act, somehow that chisel grows in power. Tempting. Taunting. Begging for another chance. And the urge is one he cannot resist. He is forever tied to that chisel. So he picks it up again, and digs deeper, further into darkness. Despite efforts to delve into other areas of positivity, the repercussions of interacting with the chisel are too great, too significant for his cocky self-assurance to persist, and he gives in. He is too deep, and he resolves there is only one way out. Unconventional. Misunderstood. Heartbreaking. He voluntarily ends the life led to him by the chisel. You grapple with this. Daily sadness hovers. Outsiders presume there must be some relief to finally having an end to the burden of life with the chisel. However, you know that peace is a far cry from what’s left behind. After all, that little man with the chisel was inside you, slowly chipping away. Emptiness now resides, allowing a gaping hole for pain, confusion, and sorrow. How you hate that damn chisel.
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