Sample of work by Ally Stoyel
The window pane glistens with the sweet droplets of the sky’s tears and frames the restless world outside as I watch it pass by. My skin tingles and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. A slight chill washes over me and I shiver, squeezing my eyes closed just a little tighter. I can feel it closing in on me. It’s a cancer that courses through my veins like venom and consumes me for a short while until I force my eyes to open and gaze absent-mindedly at the snow covered branches of the forest outside. Why do we do this to ourselves? Where do we get this destructive will, the morbid desire we have to tear everything apart? Why are we hell bent on destroying ourselves and everyone we see a part of ourselves in?
The truth is, we’re actors. We play out our lives like fiction and we look for things to amplify our stories. We design them so we’re in a constant state of unrest. When things are quiet and uncomplicated, we seek danger to throw us into confusion. Then when all is said and done, we feel this, what I’m wrapped in now. We call it regret. We try to convince ourselves that we’ve changed. That we’ve learnt something and that with this new found knowledge and experience, we can fix things. But we can’t. Even if we could, we wouldn’t. It’s not in our nature to play it safe. We need that risk, that uncertainty, to feel alive. We are slaves to this animal that lives inside of us. You may not have seen it yet, but it lies in wait and one day it will open it’s jaws and devour you.
Maybe we could exist without it, but we would be dead inside.