Of Friction

As the wind blew against his face, he stood silently by the jetty, unshaken by the strength of the wind and the cold of the night. The waves that clashed against the man-made structure did little break his thoughts...

With a rifle in his hand, he knew he had the power to change, a frightening power to make things different in his own way.

His hands, resting on the steel of his weapon, are cold. The chilly wind and the cold hard metal has nothing to do with it, the young man's mind was in a turmoil, questions that had no answer floods his mind, forming arguements that causing his fingers to feel lose heat, he grabs the rifle handle tightly, hoping that the cold will now go away.

Reconstructing what he had gone through during the day, the uncertainty of his own feelings clouds his judgement, emotions are strong yet words are few.

He recalled that he never wanted to be standing here like that, "why am i here?''

It was not a choice, he had to be. "was i wrong to think like that"

Questions in his head cast doubts in his own judgement, he doesn't like self-doubt.

The things that had happened was enough to stir his emotions, emotions that he thought he had under control that would not show so easily, he felt powerless against the rampage that was conjured in his tortured mind

"Now what if i..."