Lost

They took something from me something important and although I can remember it I can’t seem to mourn its loss and I need to. The sadness is gone, the guilt, the pain all gone. Unfortunately everything else is too. I know what they meant to take but instead they took it all, everything that makes me who I am, what I am. I look out from a shell not loving, hating, crying, or screaming because I can’t. It is an eerie silence inside my head now.

They said it would only hurt a little bit but this lost emptiness is worse than pain, so much worse. They didn’t know that this would drive me crazy. At least the with the pain I had something to hang onto. Now there is just nothing. People around me watch only now realizing that what I am doing is trying to feel something, anything. My actions get more and more desperate, going farther, pushing harder, just to feel. Now even I wonder how far I will go just to feel.

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On Being Alone

There are a lot of truths about me that I am fine with being alone is one of them. I hope those who read this add their own.

1. I am fine with being alone. I like it, need it, cringe without it. Many don’t understand that I don’t need someone there with me on a daily, weekly, or even monthly basis. I particularly don’t need a boyfriend or girlfriend to validate me.

2. I get more accomplished when there is no one around.

3. I like to eat alone because I can read or simply enjoy the food without having to make conversation.

4. I like to go to movies alone. I can hog the drink and popcorn. I can enjoy the movie without someone judging me for what I am watching or what I think about it.

5. I don’t care if people see me alone. I really don’t care what they think. When they try to keep me company because I am alone and must need it it just keeps me from enjoying the activity I am doing.

6. I don’t think a woman alone has a problem, no friends, or is lonely.

7. Please don’t touch me. I don’t like it when you do. It is not that I am inhuman I just don’t want your hand on me. I don’t feel an obligation to put my hand on you. I don’t want to be hugged or comforted I might be alone but I am not lonely.

8. If it looks like I am doing something I probably am, leave me alone. This is a big one for people who interrupt my reading, eating, or working time.

9. I am not lonely. Alone does not equal lonely please don’t assume it does.

10. I am not in the market for a husband, boyfriend, partner, or lover. I do not need someone to complete me I am complete all on my own.

These are all things about me that people have mentioned or done. Some of them drive me crazy (like I am not there already). Society tries to dictate what I should feel when I am not with someone and it makes me cringe because it is just not me. Just because I happen to be alone it does not make me lonely.

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Not Me

I have not been myself lately or rather I have been too much myself lately locked inside my own little world begging for escape. I look around at the people with me who don’t know me at all and slip back into an alternate reality that is more real to me than anything I can touch or hold but is infinitely more twisted that anything thought up on this plane.

In my world if something can think to do it, it has been done in technicolor brilliance that can only be accomplished in the mind. Things so twisted that they can only exist inside someone and they can only feast on the light and love in your soul. And feast they do. I am losing it.

I look at others, listen to them, and realize that no one has it worse or better than me because their mind might be doing it to them too. If I can hide it away from everyone but my readers they can hide it from me. Which sparks the thought, as I look at each person in turn, what horrible things is their mind doing to me as we talk. Are they similar things to what my mind is doing to them. Would they cringe away from me in horror if I told them or would they just smile at me knowingly.

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Is that the same hunger or darkness I see behind their eyes? Is it the same blackness that is behind your eyes? I don’t know why you suddenly shift away only that you do. My mind instantly goes to the questions is the darkness showing, radiating off me like some twisted negative lighthouse.  Or is it the blankness, the utter soulless look that is in my eyes. Does it make you think “she’s checked out?” Do you even notice? No one else does…

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Breaking

I expect sand as my eyes slide open and am surprised when the storm from the night before has not covered me. I wonder if that is how I got buried in the first place oh so long ago. Slowly I sit up and contemplate the bars of my prison, they were alive and moving only yesterday. Dead and cold is somewhat better than the chitinous clicking and scraping of large insects moving around. I run my hand over them feeling the spines and tiny hairs scratch against my skin. Hair embeds itself deep into my flesh instantly causing it to itch underneath my calloused palm. The hair seems to burrow deep twisting and turning worming its way into the muscle where scratching the skin will bring no relief from the writhing. Only an torturous insatiable itch.

Shuddering I try not to think about the endless hours of torture ahead while I dig at my own flesh, tearing it to make a feeling stop, a feeling that might only be a phantom but still feels just as real. I know that later I will scratch it until it bleeds onto the harsh white sand beneath me. In a way I miss the pain of real life but not enough to live it.

Trying to ignore the squirming in my hand I reach up to brush the hair out of my face only then realizing the world looks different. What I first thought was sand sticking to my skin is smooth instead of the grainy rush I came to expect from the tiny shards of glass that make up the sand in this place. It takes me a minute to notice that the skin is too smooth, to cool against my fingertips. My hands slide forward chasing my cheekbones they are there but too smooth too cool and too unmoving. My fingertips caress the smooth surface covering my cheeks tracing slowly back to my ears which amazingly are free of the enclosure. The pads of my fingers brush backward through my hair almost panicking at the lack of buckles or straps.

My heart pounds in my chest as I trace the lines at the edge of my hair. The cool metal blends with my flesh curling into it. The itch is momentarily forgotten as I realize that this might be folded into my skull wrapped up in with flesh and bone. It is only now that I feel the weight of it. My fingers skate back across the cool metal marveling that it is not being warmed by my flesh and body heat only to realize that I have no heat of my own anymore. I have been here too long and it seems that this place is turning me into it. I lean back hard wondering if the mask is metal at all. Maybe it is like the bars of the cage, not metal but alive and slowly taking over.

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Ever wonder why there’s sympathy for the Devil

I don’t own Lucifer nor would I really ever want to… Angel, Morning Star, Prince of Darkness and all.

Lucifer sat staring out over the windswept rock. It was a time of peace for him even after he’d fallen. Breaking dawn had always been his favorite time of day and the rocky Irish coast his favorite place to be. There was something about the spectacular beautiful display of dawn over the staggering gray of the cliffs and the deadly swirling darkness below. This day he arrived here just before dawn a heavy mist clung to the rocky cliff hiding the sharp rocks and swirling water below. He waited peacefully for the dawn chorus to begin. As the first hint of sun hit the horizon he took a breath and began to sing.

While the moon her watch is keeping,

All through the night

While the weary world is sleeping

All through the night

O’er thy spirit gently stealing

Visions of delight revealing

Breathes a pure and holy feeling

All through the night “

He smiled adopting an Irish lilt to his voice as he sang watching the gray start to seep from the sky.

Though I roam a minstrel lonely

All through the night

My true harp shall praise sing only

All through the night

Love’s young dream, alas, is over

Yet my strains of love shall hover

Near the presence of my lover

All through the night”

He closed his eyes enjoying the feeling of the soft breeze and sweet sound of the ocean below, rocking gently in an unheard rhythm.

The girl stared at him. He was the most stunning thing she’d ever seen. Soft black hair hung down just past his shoulders and was tied back with a black ribbon. He seemed to move with the song he sang his voice sending chills through her with its soft beauty. She watched his back expand as his chest rose when he began the next verse. Muscles rippled even through the linen shirt he wore.

Hark, a solemn bell is ringing

Clear through the night

Thou, my love, art heavenward winging

Home through the night

Earthly dust from off thee shaken

Soul immortal shalt thou awaken

With thy last dim journey taken

Home through the night”

She hadn’t realized that she’d moved forward as he sang until she realized she was standing at the edge of the cliff beside where he was sitting. She reached out to touch his cheek to brush away the tear she saw there. Her hand hovered beside his face the strands of black hair that had escaped its tie sliding over it.

“You’re song is beautiful don’t stop singing,” she said quietly as he ended the last note. A soft peaceful smile played against his face.

“There is no more to sing,” She couldn’t help but think that his speaking voice shined as much as his singing voice. Her heart broke at its sound. His eyes still closed he turned toward her voice as she spoke. She wondered if his eyes were as beautiful as the rest of him. She was inexplicably drawn to him. She closed her eyes for a moment attempting to remember how she got there. Why she left her warm home before dawn because of the sound of his voice? She shook her head confused for a moment. He reached out and ran his thumb along her delicate cheek sighing softly as he did. A soft frown flickered over his features as he did the unthinkable. He opened his eyes and she screamed stumbling backward her foot catching on the edge of the cliff.

Lucifer drew in a breath as the catalog of her sins flooded his mind. She was ruined by the shepherd’s kisses and chose to lay with him before she’d been married. She’d done this willingly and over again. A sad smile crossed his lips as he watched the beautiful young girl fall still staring into the endless obsidian pool of his eyes. Only when she disappeared into the mist and the violent waves and rocks below did he close them. For a moment he’d forgotten it had been so long since he sang. He’d forgotten that only sinners could hear him sing and only sinners and demons would be drawn to the sound of his voice.

Tears slipped down his cheeks he’d only wanted a moment’s peace before the fight started. He’d only wanted to relax for just a moment after years in the cage. He sighed again stretching out his black wings. The shining feathers damp with the mist glittered. Strong muscles flexed as he prepared to take flight. The darkness of his position settled around him like a cloak as he took wingLucifer_the___Morningstar___by_dwinbotp (1)

Public Stigma and Reasons for Hiding

I speak often of the depression I suffer from. Sometimes it is in graphically descriptive terms as many of my posts are and other times it is plainly as this post is shaping up to be. I recently went very public to friends and family with the problems I experience with depression.

That was a very large mistake. Instead of being able to be more open I have had to hide more. I cannot use phrases like help, sick, hospital, or state that I am not feeling well without a paranoid lets call in the nice young men in little white coats reaction. Frankly I am considering moving, changing my name, severing the support system I thought was in place (turns on those I relied on were worse than those that I ran from), and going somewhere so big no one will know me or care as I slowly degrade and bring myself back up again. This is because I am the only one who can, help would be nice, someone to talk to would be nice but not worth the fallout of being honest with people close to you.

When I began this I talked about when to call an ambulance and when not to. Unfortunately no one seemed to listen lol. Let me rephrase what I said at the beginning, unless I am bleeding out don’t call the ambulance. Calling can, will, and did ruin my life.

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I Want – an ongoing story

Although writing is nothing new to me I only indulge in playing with fiction once in a while. Please please tell me what you think about the beginning I would really like a critique.

I wanted to say that it would be ok and that you were going to be just fine as I had so many times before. You looked so scared, sad, and alone. I wanted reach up and brush the hair out of your eyes. I knew it would only slip back down again but at least I could feel the silken strands between my fingers and I always loved that feeling.

I wanted to say that there was nothing to fear that it was safe, that you would be safe but looking in to those beautiful blue pools, whose black centers almost took over. They were wide and one could dive into one of those pools and wind up sinking into the inky darkness that was your pupil. The cerulean iris, just a ring around obsidian, you were scared.

I wanted to say not for me, never be scared for me, but I was too busy drowning to speak. Your strong arms grip me loosely as if I am made of thinly blown glass that would shatter in your hands.

I wanted to say don’t worry about breaking me, I was already shattered into a thousand pieces before heaven and hell and certainly before now. Something broken, something that cannot be put back together, no matter how much you try.

I wanted to say that I was still here, despite the fact that my arms fell limply to the side like broken tree limbs. Only your arm around me was keeping me from lying in the ever spread red pool underneath me. I vaguely wondered what it was my brain to tired to realize what it actually was.

I wanted to say I would be warm as long as you kept holding me. I would never get cold with you wrapped around me one arm around my back holding me up and the other cradled behind my head. You were desperately trying to evaluate the damage and still hold me close.

I wanted to say that I appreciated that just like I appreciate all that you do for me. I wanted to shake my head at that moment as my heart that normally beats only for you was no longer beating in time with yours. God how I wanted to close my eyes and turn my head if only to escape the pain in your eyes.

I wanted to say that none of this was your fault despite the fact that I knew you blamed yourself for it and would for a very long time. I wanted to hold you as close as you were holding me. Your tears sliding track across your dirt streaked face only to slide down mine as you rested your forehead against my forehead like we did when we were kids. To anyone outside it may have looked like we were both crying but for some reason I wasn’t.

I wanted to say I loved you

I wanted to say run as the thing that brought this all on crept up behind you. I wanted to scream it as it lowered its deadly horn and casually lined it up with your heart. I wanted to push you out of the way I wanted to do anything to stop this but…

Roses, Thorns, and the Dark

I don’t remember coming here inside myself, wait, actually I do remember. I don’t want to remember but I do and I know why. I don’t worry about the strangeness of the thoughts in my head as I run my hand over the black bars of my cage. I belong here and in some ways it is the only place that I belong. My heart still flutters painfully in my chest although I distinctly remember ripping it out a time or two, Or was it ripped from me. I shake my head my shaggy never perfect hair falls around my shoulders in confusion as I remember the crackling pop of ribs as a hand stretches them apart to dig at the soft tissue underneath. It is a wonder I still draw breath. The strange feeling of my lung being pushed aside so that you could get to the most vital part of me. Your hands are warm as they grasp it, somehow I didn’t expect them to be warm. The tugging sensation makes me shiver as its connections are severed and you begin to withdraw. The sliding sensation is all pleasure and pain wrapped up like a Christmas gift, tied with a particularly visceral bow.

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Anywhere but here

I am wondering if this is a precursor to the end. No one cares – I am pretty much done with my pathetic little life. I wonder daily where I can go where “young woman raped and murdered,” would be the most likely news headline. Granted I hope it would say young author raped and murdered but I don’t think I can write anymore. I used to be able to I used to publish my work. It all works towards the fact that I am way too screwed up to be alive. I tried I really did. I can’t do it. Out of memory out of words out of time. I tried, I really did. They didn’t care… if they only would understand.

I am doing the best that I can.  It is never good enough. Nothing is. I will always end up like this with something in my head screaming that it is time to get out. What honestly does it take to get someone to come and kill you. There are enough murderers out there. Why can’t one of them find me and just take me out. I don’t mind if you want to kill do so if you want to torture and maim do it…. just let me go.

Screaming Infinity, It was Bound to Happen

What is the next rush? When is the next time? When will I feel like this again? I sit and wait for it knowing that the next rush is right around the corner. I am trapped lately though. Stuck on the merry go round that just won’t stop and let me off. The cats chase the horses round and round until the spinning goes to my head and my eyes roll back. I doubt there is someone who can actually make my eyes roll back in my head but it is good to dream and it is the only time that I feel absolute freedom and hope.

I am not sure if I am tired because I am pushing myself or if I push myself because I am tired and hurts so bad that I can’t scream once because I will never stop. The truth is I guess I am just tired. I want to know that the things that I believe in are real but there is no proof. I don’t want to say that I won’t take anything on faith but I know too many people suffering right now. I know to many people screaming for death or screaming for life to take things on simple faith.

I explained the problem with me once before and I don’t think they quite got it. I am not right, there is something about me that screams when I try to be normal. When I don’t scream it drives me mad. “Down the rabbit hole Alice” A large part of me is dying slowly while the rest of me just hasn’t caught up yet. I could love but am no longer sure what that is in some ways I don’t think I ever did. The ones who I loved are all gone now and I am by myself in a house filled with people. If their kind of love is what brought me to this point then I am not sure I want to know what love is.

Ever see what is going to happen before it does?

Remember the blog post on things that cannot be unseen… yeah I live in that dark and sweaty world. It is extremely disconcerting because there is nothing that is comfortable about a juxapostian.