Crafter Gray

I'm scared.  What have I become?  What do I have the capacity of turning into?

It was me, I know for sure now.  I was the one who made that prison out of my house.  I was the one who made blood run down the walls and come out the sink.  I was the one who tore months of my life away in what felt like a single day.

The entire time I was there, all it took was a thought and I would have been free.  All I needed was to picture it and the blood would be gone and the smell would be flowers and my mom's body wouldn't be there.  All I had to do was will it and the front door would open up into my front lawn like it always had and I could have just walked away.

So why didn't it?  Didn't I want it enough?  I thought I did.  I hated every second I was trapped in there.  I wanted to leave with every fiber of myself.  I was sure I did.  More than I wanted the ceiling to come lower and the walls to move in to their rightful position in that messed up room.  Why was it so simple this time when I couldn't even make dead bodies stop continuing to bleed in my last loop?

Why have I still not taken the picture of my mom out of my backpack?

What good is being magic if it came too late to save anyone.  What good is being able to fix things that are broken if it means you are the only one who knows they're broken because you're the only one who hears the screaming?

After learning about my abilities, all I wanted to do was use them.  But now I'm not so sure if that was right.  He is the one breaking reality, He is the one that makes the screaming.  I don't want to do that.  I don't want to turn into someone who disfigures what God has created.

I'm not sure what I am.  I used to take comfort in the fact that no matter what I did, I was still human.  Now I'm not sure if I can even say that anymore.

I need to go to sleep.  I didn't sleep all last night, I need to go to sleep.