So Dark Is My Light...

It's been a hot minute since I've updated. The thoughts are always present, words and emotions desperate to be heard, to be felt. Yet, more often then not, I find it hard to bring the words to the surface. To allow the chaos of my mind to spill out through practiced fingertips along black keys. To make sense of the endless white noise that echoes within the twisting halls of my memory warehouse.

The shadows know me there, patient and diligent. Waiting for even the softest of whisper that I'll be there. Terrible shapes of monstrous things lie in wait for my return. What most would deem Monster are the very guardians of the wounded innocence I hide deep inside. My gentle nightmares.

As the days grow shorter and the darkness takes its rightful place along the cooling landscape, I start to feel, even for a moment, more like the me I remember. The hopeful spirit that brings warmth wherever it goes. Its very own light source even within the blackest of places. 

I remember what it was to dream. To fall victim to an over active imagination that would tear away the pain of the real world and allow freedom within the realm of dreams. The moments that were amazing and empowering; new impossible worlds all of my very own to explore and claim.

The internal process of my own inner demons has not been easy. Yet, I'm finally sensing a break through. Once again forced into a cocoon so that I could heal and reemerge as something stronger. The stone version of the fragile thing I used to be. Experiences having molded me, broken me, nearly taken away my light. Bled of tears and innocence, I was at a breaking point. It is at that moment, the eyeless shadows of my inner sanctuary came forward, encompassing me protectively in their skeletal arms and took me away to that hidden space between sleep and awake. They carried me home, tucked away beneath an ever watchful queen. The great mother of my secret shadows and personal guardian of my memory warehouse.

Sometimes you have to take a step back to experience the emotions tearing through you. You have to feel them, listen to them...understand them. They need to run their course. After the flood has subsided and the waters of the mind have finally become calm, only then can you start to move forward again.

For the first time, in a long time it seems...I feel like I can. One foot in front of the other, I begin my journey. Hopeful of what's to come.

-Adieu

Hidden Within The Dark

The chaos settles within the twisting labyrinth of thought as cool fall air caresses the exposed flesh, leaving a trail of Goosebumps in its wake. There’s a shift in the world around us, the echo of what's to come... Shorter days of warm tones within an array of falling leaves as night begins to take up the space left behind. Energy bristles with ethereal secrets as the scent of autumn fills every pore with renewed hope. A time of year that has always brought a sense of joy to a weary heart.

Healing the wounds of traumatic yesterdays has not been easy. Carrying the weight of a brave face has finally become too much to bear. What were once merely shadows of what once was has transformed into intensely vivid High Definition. Memories so crisp, so very clear, it's as though they had just happened not moments ago. Not just the images, but the intensity of sight, sound, smell and taste. Even greater still, are the emotions that accompany them. Enlightening, joyful and beautiful... Yet there are those that are absolutely terrifying.

Time passes in languid succession, traveling at a snail's pace and at times, go into a whirlwind of movement where you find yourself losing reality and the hours within it. I've spent far too much time in this stillness, in this place where time has no meaning. Trying so desperately to remember who I am, where I wanted to go... What it was like to truly smile. I have no real explanation as to why I've gotten to this twisted space where everything I've once loved has become faded and dull. Battling myself internally to crawl out of this hole I've found myself in. The futility of my efforts have weakened my resolve. So many brilliant ideas swim through me only to find themselves washed away in turbulent currents of despair.

There is a stubbornness within that defies simply giving up. A part of me that's never failed, never abandoned me when nothing made sense. To keep going, no matter what. The pain behind this prose is indescribable yet I know it must be released. No longer able to shelter the torment stirring behind downcast eyes. Unwilling to let this make worms meat of me.

Desiring to be better, determined to make something beautiful out of the horrid mess strewn across the inner landscape of dreams. To bathe in the serenity of creativity, attempting to shine again when nothing more than an ember of that precious light remains.

Forcing the self to believe when so much has faded away to nothing.

Trying to find that hope again…hidden within the dark.

-Adieu

Within the Willows

Shadows and mischief, cursed oddities dancing along an endless abyss. They groan and sway, twisted branches weaving too and fro before the mind's eye, distorted and lifeless. Rationalization is fleeting as chaos swirls within and without, forcing all logic to scatter against the lines of sanity, becoming nothing more than shadows and dust. An arrangement of images, faded projections of discarded memories struggling to find their original places among the limitless pages flipping within a book of an ancient soul. Lost in their search for their proper place among the prose of their life, a futile attempt to make sense of ghostly yesterdays.

A heaviness caresses the tired form as it lies down against a familiar mattress, finding just the right position for the system to go into a nightly cool down; the living machine prepared for much needed sleep. Yet as the internal workings prime themselves for such a feat, the mind becomes overwhelmed with activity; shimmering lights blossoming and fading behind closed lids as breathing becomes shallow and the heartbeat lowers to a steady drum.

In those drawn-out moments of wait, consciousness begins its descent into the darkness of dreamscape; trying in desperation to hold on just a little longer when the body's engines switch over to rest and force the mind to go into stasis...allowing the subconscious to rise and shower the dreamer with endless possibilities of the other worlds. Beckoning them to venture the inner unknowns.

The worlds presented are beyond anything ever documented. Here, they are offered to the dreamer's very own discovery. A special privilege only given to the individuals deemed worthy enough to experience them. In many cases, the experiences are beautiful to behold. Awe inspiring. Bringing forth inspiration to mold the creative mind for when they leave this sacred space to give birth to amazing works of art.

Yet there are the special few who are brought to the hidden realms; the very womb of nightmares. Here, the strongest are forced to travel a leviathan of darkened pathways leading to doors of unimaginable horrors. These rare souls have a gift to survive and overcome these breathing terrors, only to emerge ever stronger from their hellish dreamscapes.

Waking with a sense of unspeakable knowledge; the monsters, the demons, and the ravenous shadows that swarmed and berated them as they fought to get back to the light of reality. Some fear these hidden realms, unable to welcome the wisdom being offered by the terrors behind their eyes...fighting to stay awake, to stay safe...to stay in the light.

There are few who face their internal darkness. Lesser still are those that go willingly into those spine chilling realms to confront, fight, survive, and essentially understand their messages cloaked in a nightmare shroud. Sometimes...they learn the power of the other worlds and use it as their own. Changing the dream itself as their own work of art. A movie of their very own.

Becoming a Dream Weaver and Warrior of the Nightmare.

Now dear reader, when next you find yourself slipping into peaceful unconsciousness...will you approach the gentle place where all is well and things drift and sway so that fragments are left behind when you wake and fade away... Or will you turn and face that living darkness? Will you learn the secrets behind lucid dreaming by facing your very own fears?

It is worth the risk of fear itself... I should know, because the nightmares no longer frighten me.

In fact, the nightmares Fear Me.

Pleasant dreams...

-Adieu

Nameless Horror

You try to make sense of the confusion, the constant chatter of indiscernible voices becoming echoing white noise in your head. Emotions volatile, frightening in their warpath through the veins, scolding you from the inside out. Nothing makes sense. You fight to grasp at reality but an unseen skeletal hand is picking at your fingers, forcing you to slip and fall screaming into the void.

Yet another image shattered, the pieces strewn out like a macabre jigsaw puzzle lying haphazardly along a darkened earth. You attempt to reach out to pick up the pieces when you're taken aback; recoiling at the sight of movement. Horrid, slithering things encompassing the pieces in a rancid smelling black substance, forcing you to stay your hand and take a step back.

There's a terrible nagging at the back of your mind, desperate for something to make sense of all of this. A hidden door that just needs to be opened so you can wake from this living nightmare. Yet no matter how many times you go to sleep and find yourself rising to a new day, you realize with gut wrenching horror, that this is real. It's not a dream. It's not something you can fight or run away from. It's a chest-tightening, breath stealing realization that there is no escape.

Through poetic-prose I try to suss out the whirlwind of chaotic emotions and thoughts churning inside me. It's far too early to speak let alone mention as to why I've found myself in this hollowed space. Very few of you will be informed, if it at all, as to why my chest tightens with every breath I take. Please, fear not. I gently ask for your patience. It will be revealed in time. Then again, perhaps not. Just know that I, myself, am not in danger of any kind. I am simply reacting to events close yet outside of myself that I have no control over. 

However...I am deeply affected by it.

Some will find this on the dramatic side, which is understandable for those peering in from the outside. Know, dear reader, this is how I vent. Through cryptic phrases and descriptive words, I attempt to express how I'm dealing with something that is intensely life altering. Yet truth be told, I doubt I'll ever be able to properly convey what this has awakened in me.

Coffee beckons, so I must away. Know, gentle souls, I am safe. I am alright. Physically.

Emotionally? That's another story.

-Anon-

In Restless Dreams I Walked Alone

It trickles behind heavy-lidded eyes. The secret plain of the inner worlds, stretching out into a timeless oblivion where stars are nestled within creation. It is there, in that sacred inner place that one's mind blossoms. Cast out from the harsh solidity of the body and thrown into an ether of limitless possibility.

Dreams are a helluva thing.

Been too long since these hands have glided over a keyboard; fingertips finding their old graceful rhythm as they dance fluidly along black keys. A sort of calming takes place as the mind remains foggy from recent dreamscape, not yet overwhelmed by the white noise of reality. Tis always best to allow words to stream from practiced hands onto parchment (traditional or otherwise) for the intent is clear and free flowing. Imagine that the mind is akin to a freeway. When one is newly awake, it is much like the wee hours of darkness and almost every lane is open with a car few and far between. Where you, as the driver, can almost enjoy the scenery as you cruise along at an uninterrupted, steady pace. It is almost impossible to allow oneself to write with such freedom after having a hectic day; nothing more then being trapped in rush hour traffic accompanied by anxiety and exhaustion when you finally pause long enough to even attempt to write. It's no longer an enjoyable pass time, but a straining chore due to the echoing noise of the day resounding behind your eyes.

At least for me, anyway. It's simply much easier for me write soon after I've woken for my mind is still calm from unconsciousness.

As I've noted, it has been quite some time since I've updated and I apologize for that. The transitions I've encountered during the past 6 months or so have left me too clouded to stop and write. Now having steady hours at a job I love does help tremendously. Being that it involves the ocean (not surprising *chuckles*) if she's calm, then I have work. If she's in a mood, then I find myself with less hours. Currently, she's feeling fairly good and welcomes visitors so I'm finally working five days a week. It's been good for me emotionally to be productive again. I've also taken on working on my YouTube channel creating interesting content for everyone to view and enjoy. It's honestly something I'm passionate about and truly enjoy doing. I've been acquiring items necessary to create better quality videos and have steadily grown more comfortable/confident with editing. I've lacked in uploading recently due to a certain item not arriving (or rather having received the Wrong Item, I should say) and having to wait for my next paycheck to ship said item back in the hopes they send the correct one. Currently, I'm waiting for them to exchange said item and ship it back as promised.

I'm honestly excited about my future projects and how my channel has grown since I started to create again. I may not have all that many Subscribers, but the fact that people have decided to do so, blows me away and I'm incredibly humbled by it. Currently I'm at 143 Subscribers. I am grateful to each one.

My channel is a mismatch of things; story readings, halloween makeup looks and random vlogs with some old fan-videos of my favorite movies/tv shows with music. One in particular has recently been gaining quite a bit of views. I created it on a whim. A tribute to my love of werewolves and one of my favorite bands; Disturbed. I named it, "Moon Sickness" <-(Click to view said video) and uploaded it October 4th 2011. I did it purely out of love and it did alright, considering I was a novice more or less when I put it together. In recent months, I witnessed it Jump in views and had no idea why. It gained nearly 2,000 views in over two months and I was dumbfounded. Then I noticed something... There's a new tag at the bottom when I open the detail section. 'Suggested by WMG' and it'll either link to "SLIPKNOT- The Devil In I (OFFICial VIDEO)" or "DISTURBED- The Sound Of Silence (OFFICIAL VIDEO)"

I was completely floored when I saw this... And my old werewolf video is now at nearly 7,000 views with 77 likes and 1 dislike.

Like my other fan-made videos, it is not monetized. Neither are my Creepypasta readings or Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark readings with my little buddy Squeaks. Why? I give credit when credit's due and it is not my right to make a profit off other's work. Period. Having had my own work (Story and Artwork alike) plagiarized in the past (even so far as someone coping one of my alien art pieces and trying to sell it as their own) I would never do that to another creator. So seeing that they've decided to Share my Werewolf Tribute is incredibly humbling.

So I'm attempting to gather the remains of who I used to be and piece them into someone new. I know I will never be the same, as I've mentioned time and again in past blogs. I am trying to move forward and make a better tomorrow for myself and the people I love and care about. It has not been easy, nor will it ever truly be, but it has been better.

You know, it's rather odd that I'd find the urge to write again when I've been struggling to do so for quite some time now. It's odd because today marks 2 years and 2 months since I lost my Father. Perhaps it's the calm that washes over me whenever the 14th rolls around that allowed me to start typing as if I'd never stopped. *shrugs*

I do have a question for those of you who have gotten this far and enjoy viewing my creations on my YouTube channel.

Would you be interested in a Paranormal video? Or a series of paranormal based videos; each having their own particular story or experience? I had a few before, which actually did rather well, but I removed them out of embarrassment. I think I'd like to create them again. Make a playlist dedicated to Paranormal Experiences. Considering All Hallow's Eve is growing ever nearer as Summer begins to draw to close, I think it would be an absolutely wonderful idea.

Let me know if you'd be interested in seeing something like that. You know me, lover of all things Macabre just like her great Uncle Vinny ;)

And on that note my lovelies, it is time that I away and perhaps work on a simple Vlog for my YouTube channel before having to get ready and head out to work around 4pm.

Until next time...

-Adieu

I say we take off and Nuke the entire site from orbit. It's the only way to be sure.

Strange sounds course a path of static behind my eyes as I struggle to make sense of nightly journey through the inner worlds. So many images, so many symbols…sporadic and confusing, I find myself at a loss as to how I can decipher any meaning at all. For now I take a deep drink from my Nightmare Before Christmas thermos; hot coffee streaming a line of warmth down my chest. My fingertips dance in a languid succession across these black keys as Aliens special edition plays in the background, Ripley speaking to Burke about drifting through the coring systems for 57 years. No matter how many times I’ve seen/heard this movie, I will never grow tired of it. Too many good memories are attached and always manage to bring me a comfort, especially when I’m feeling very off my internal axis.

I haven’t been able to update due to the skewed nature of my internal workings. The chaotic nature of my emotions have left me feeling out of place inside my own mind; fragmented and drifting. I didn’t want that sickness to taint my words. I refuse to let it overshadow me, which is why I chose to be silent. It still festers, crawling through the shadows of my memory warehouse. Yet it dares not venture closer as the hissing nightmares keep it at bay, their obsidian forms terrifying to the things that would cause me harm. My beautiful guardians.

I fight the odd visions behind my eyes, broken memories I thought had dispersed and faded away. The sting of their presence as sharp as the first moment they found me. Conflicted, I’ve gone still. Attempting to understand the complexities of my own internal workings, wondering why it is that the shadows of the past have shrouded my thoughts, forcing me to relive them as they swirl overhead, looming just in the distance. Haunting me. It doesn’t help that at times like these, when the inner me needs guidance, the first person that I think of is no longer present. To make it all the more difficult, Dad has been making small appearances in my dreams. Instead of feeling some form of comfort, I’m left even more off center when I’m awake.

“I don’t know who I am anymore.” What an odd thing to think, let alone admit. I don’t recognize myself. Truth be told, I haven’t in a very long time. I’ve been doing the best I can to piece myself back together to resemble something familiar even if I knew the end result would be nothing like before. A ghostly image of something that was lost. I’m sure it’s nothing more than a phase one has to go through in order to remember who they are. What if, for the sake of argument, I don’t know who that was…and maybe, I don’t want to. As though I can’t stomach who I used to be; memories I no longer feel fond of. I was always so scared…of everything, especially failure. I don’t even know why I’m talking about this right now. Guess it’s just a means to vent some of this weirdness dancing through my veins and making me feel off.

No more hiding. No more being afraid. Yet I feel so fragmented. Wanting to be more than this stalemate I’ve found myself in. Perhaps that’s why now, more than ever, I feel such a bond with my childhood Hero, Ripley. Coming back to a world so familiar yet so very different. Learning that everything you’ve loved, is gone. Being thrown into a pit not of your own making and having to dig your way out. Being the outsider…only to become the reluctant hero.

I’m no hero, that’s for damned sure. I’m about as screwed up as the next person trying to blindly make their way through this bloodthirsty existence.

Perhaps being stagnant will make a normal person stir crazy. I haven’t been working due to there not being any work to speak of considering Mother Nature has been having mood swings off shore. No boats, no reason to go into work. So I’ve been depressed. You’d think I’d utilize this time with being creative, which trust me I’ve tried. I’ve finally managed to edit some footage of going to the natural history museum to see dinosaurs for the first time. It’s still a rough draft so I’ll have to finish it soon. I want to be productive, no how matter shit-tastic I’m feeling. Which doesn’t really help because then the brain likes to pull you deeper into that negative space. I have a screwed up brain.

So apologies for being quiet or distant. This isn’t something I do consciously. If anything I’m constantly at odds with myself when I start to pull away from everything and everyone I love. It’s only become more of an issue since... Damn… I was literally just thinking back and this chaos started in late 2012. That’s nearly what, four years?

What really bothers me the most, is how I still feel as though I need to give back to those wonderful souls that have helped me along the way and I’m barely scraping the bottom of the barrel. I mean that. I’m frustrated that I’m unable to give back yet. I have always wanted to do for others before myself. I want to give back. I’m infuriated inside that I’m not in the position to do so. Not yet. But I will. That’s one of the biggest motivators to keep going. To get to a place where I can do for others as they’ve done for me, and then some. I want to help. I want to shower those loving, selfless souls with gifts of love. I want to make their worlds more enjoyable. I want to give back so badly that my chest aches. I feel so lost not being able to do so. I hate it.

You all mean so very much to me and there are moments, (many as of late) that you have been the only reason I keep going. The biggest reason not to give up, is the promise I’ve made to all of you. I will give back. I will get to a place where I can do what you’ve done for me.

*sighs and takes a hefty drink of her strong coffee*

Whatever this funk is, it’ll pass as it always does and I’ll be a brighter, happier version of myself in no time. Thank you all for being so patient and understanding. I know I’m not the easiest person to deal with because I seem to leave everyone in the dark when I get like this. If I could control this, I would. Trust me.

And on that note I have my Aliens to watch and my coffee to finish.

-Adieu

Two by two, hands of Blue

A terrible wind swept over the desolate landscape as I peered out the old windows. “There’s a storm coming.” I had announced to my Mother but never took my eyes away from those strange clouds. Something about them wasn’t right. They way moved, the odd way they twisted into each other; writhing like monstrous white snakes. Unable to pull my attention elsewhere, I noticed that they were changing. Nightmarish faces formed at the edges of those slithering lines of cloud. Not faces…skulls. There were gaping black holes where there should have been eyes as their long twisted jaws opened revealing rows of dagger like teeth. The moment I was actually afraid is when they turned those terrible features toward the house. “They’re demons.” I suddenly whispered and started closing the blinds, hoping this would deter them from looking inside. I knew we would only be in danger if I stood there and did nothing. If I blocked them from looking in, they’d bypass us completely. I wasn’t allowed the luxury of being afraid. I had to protect my Mother and the house. There was no other option.

Talk about a weird dream and that was only just one scene from many throughout the night. My dreams lately have had a very intense Stephen King vibe, which I don’t mind all that much considering I love his work. I know it’s my psyche working through internal issues that are still sussing themselves out as they make their way to the surface of my consciousness. My anxiety has been rearing its ugly face allot more lately, and I wish it would bugger off.

I know where it stems from, but I refuse to allow it to stop me from moving forward. Even though there are moments when the pain becomes too solid, too real. A terrible entity whose sole purpose is to destroy everything that I am from the darkest recesses of my mind. I do my best to get past it, to ignore the snarling demon that snaps at my heels as I walk away. Amazingly, it’s been quiet. Too quiet. Which is why I’m not all that surprised that it’s trying to surface.

Gotta love the complexity of the human mind.

Slightly off subject but it’ll tie right back in (yay slip’n’slide of insanity!) to the theme of this blog, is the long awaited return of my childhood favorite characters Fox Mulder and Dana Scully of the X-Files. That, right there…is a huge trigger to my psyche. A very painful reminder that Dad is not here to see it. Heh, right as the long nails of my fingertips danced along these black keys, the sting of liquid emotion started at the corners of my eyes, forcing me to blink and take a deep needed breath. I almost lost every ounce of composure when that old opening sequence filled the screen; a flashback to those precious moments in time when we were getting along and watching our favorite episodes. Even now, a huge lump of grief is stuck at the back of my throat and my face is flushed, yet somehow my eyes remain dry as I struggle to keep my composure.

*pauses to take a hefty drink of her strong coffee from her Nightmare Before Xmas thermos*

I honestly thought I’d be better by now. These feelings are unwanted. Silently tortured by a deep anguish that coils around the fragmented pieces of a scarred piece of flesh that you would never suspect was once a beating human heart. Dramatic, yes. Also a very accurate description of how I perceive myself on the inside. I’m beginning to see more and more, that I am not who I used to be. There are moments that I don’t recognize myself at all. Trying so hard to remember the joy I used to have, letting it flow through me to others. How much I thrived on being around people, soaking up their warmth and laughter. It’s becoming harder for me to want to reach out to that. There has always been an introverted side, but it had no problem sharing space as well as taking shifts with its extroverted counterpart. Recently, the extrovert has been absent or shut out and the introvert wants to keep it that way.

Painful truths have been brought to my attention regarding family, mostly on my Father’s side. Things he had kept from me that I had to learn from the family he kept away while I was growing up. It doesn’t just sting…it burns in ways that causes my anxiety to rip through me like a heated sandstorm until I’ve been reduced to nothing more than ash.

*smirks* Way to be poetic, huh?

I was hoping I’d have more positive and upbeat things to type out along this ghostly screen before me. Honestly, revealing this is the last thing I wanted. There is just so much crazy in my head, I know that rationally, the best way to deal with and eventually overcome it, is to talk it out, work it out in the open and get through it. I don’t want to constantly bombard my close friends and family verbally with what transpires in my brain. Despite the fact that I know I’m still grieving, that I suffer from anxiety that at times gets the better of me. That I even do my gorramed hardest to fight off any visible sign of depression. I don’t want to be a walking pity party. I never want to be perceived as someone who’s always bitching about how hard living is. There is so much good to focus on no matter how much I’m hurting inside. I want others to be happy, I want to be positive for them when even they can’t be. I want to show them that it gets better, even if deep inside the back of my mind, it doesn’t feel that way for myself.

Talk about a serious mind-screw. Especially when you actively believe in, ‘Practice what you Preach’.

There are times, when I want to cut myself open, reach deep inside and tear out the part of me that does nothing but feel. I hate being a Reader. What some would label as an Empath, a Sensitive, or a Psychic, or a Clairvoyant, or whatever you want to call it, take your pick. I’m just one of those rare individuals who feels everything; the world, people, animals, you name it…faar too much. I’ve developed the ability to shut it off, or mask it. There was a while where I couldn’t feel anything. I was incredibly numb. I guess the shock of losing someone will do that to you. That, and a whole shit ton of other life altering situations piled on top of each other too. Here’s the kicker (you’re gunna love this) I don’t believe I have any ‘special abilities’. While others may see the way animals and children respond and react to me as almost otherworldly or magical, I don’t see it that way. The odd times I blurt things out loud, forget that I’ve done so until I learn they’ve come to pass, or times I’ll dream of something and later on, it’ll somehow manifest in real life. Or knowing when someone is thinking about me and they contact me not long after, or knowing something is wrong before the person ever utters a sound and it’s over the phone or through text, so you can’t say I was simply reading their body language. This… (Whatever the hell it is) is a natural part of my brain that happens to be a bit more active than most folk. It’s an enormous pain in the ass. Especially when it tunes into something and holy hell, I have no control over it. It’s horrible.

Lately, that part of my brain has been flipped on, non-stop. I’ve been having dreams, or thinking of things, and the next thing I know, I’m confronted with the fact that they’ve literally come to pass. That I was right. I knew before it even happened or was brought to my attention. I know how weird that sounds, trust me. I have gone back and forth, internally debating whether I should be open about it or not. It’s not something I asked for. I’ve been odd since I was a child, so I’ve learned to embrace my weirdness. I just don’t choose to share it all that often due to leaving myself open for negativity. If you honestly think I’m full of shit and delusional. Well, then… Kudos to you. No, I’m being very serious. I am perfectly fine and accepting of the fact that there will be people who think exactly that. I only ask, that you show an ounce of diplomacy and be kind enough to not attack me for it. “If you don’t have something nice to say, keep it to yourself.” Besides, I’ve got enough internal negativity, my own brand of self-punishment if you will, so it’s all good. It’s one of the reasons I pull back and go quiet. There is so much information streaming through my brain that it becomes overwhelming white noise. The only time I can find any comfort when my head is too loud, I spend time alone, in nature, or among animals. They are incredibly calming. The earth has its very own energy, and some areas are more calming than others. When I’m in those places, I can feel the white noise subside, being replaced by the calm of nature all around me. It truly helps.

I feel like I’m rambling at this point…which, in a sense I am, but at least it’s entertaining?

*gives a Gaelic shrug and takes a hefty drink of her coffee*

You know, there are times when I scare myself. More often than not, actually. After having a dream of something, and learning later that it’s happened… It’s honestly scary. Or just having this, ‘knowing’ that I can’t explain… Or getting pictures in my head almost like memories from a dream and feeling the emotions only to learn it’s actually happened. Especially when it’s a disaster or tragedy and you’ve felt people’s terror before they died… I fucking hate it. I don’t know why it’s been so intense lately, I thought it was just due to being hormonal or being close to the full moon… Sure, that can escalate picking up on things with more intensity but I just, I don’t know. Like the ocean’s tides my inner waves have been pulling me all over the place. Sometimes, I’m stranded while other times, I’m completely submerged.

Heh, I’m definitely a moon-brain like River Tam.

It’s amazing how truly complex the human mind really is. Fascinatingly terrifying would be a better description.

Perhaps I just think too damned much for my own good. Gorramed thing never shuts off.

Well my luvlies, I think it’s time I bid thee anon and find something to occupy these brain-meats. Editing videos for my YouTube channel should do the trick.

-Adieu

Messages from the Dead

The soft sound of pattering fills my ears as gentle sheets of rain trickle down from gloomy skies, accompanied by the shrill call of a seagull somewhere off in the distance. Cool, moist air dances in through the open window as I sit, indian style, with my recent birthday present on my lap; eerie shadows stretch along the walls as the ghostly white screen casts soft light along my neck and face. I pause and take a long drink of my coffee, enjoying the way it slides down my throat and pools within my stomach like a hug from the inside. A better morning than the last, my emotional state having leveled out to a mostly normal status compared to how I felt yesterday when I rose from the other worlds. The days leading up to yesterday were incredibly hard; emotionally speaking, I was a gorramed mess. Nothing I did seemed to calm the static from inside my head. Even when I tried to write, to type out the chaos behind my eyes through poetic-prose, I found myself worse off than Sisyphus. Plainly put, it was maddening.

Due to the sporadic nature of my emotions my mental state was beginning a dangerous decent into the rabbit hole. A place I never willingly go.

Terrible thoughts were coursing through the fried pathways of my mind and all the while I was screaming soundlessly within myself for it to all just stop. It had become so bad that it was beginning to manifest as horrific anxiety; breathless and on edge I felt as though some monstrous unseen hand wrapped its skeletal fingers along my ribcage and was squeezing the life out of me.

Not a pleasant experience, no. Not at all.

There was so much venom dancing through my thoughts, my emotions having gone rabid; ripping into me at every available opportunity. I was helplessly trapped inside myself. Nothing helped. Not the cool air of a beautiful winter day, not the playful interaction of small song birds thanking me for bringing them wild bird seed. I tried so very hard to get away from myself, from these self-destructive thoughts that I knew were initially brought on by an unwanted yet necessary evil I must face once a month.

For the past week I have struggled to find my words again. To sit here calmly and hear the soft tapping of my now long nails dancing fluidly along these black keys. But every time I tried, every time I even had an inkling to allow some of this poison out, I was stopped. My brain would fill with white noise, my breath would hitch, pain would slither through my ribcage as my chest tightened and I’d just sit here in frustration, completely defeated.

The dreams held no more comfort than my waking hours. My escape into the other worlds held no safety as it always has, just more shadows and confusion. I felt impossibly alone; trapped within the endless twisting labyrinth of my mind. I had even fought myself to watch something that would have brought me some kind of peace, but it only triggered more sorrow. I decided to start watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer again, more as background noise…what a terrible mistake that was on my part. Being that it was watched almost religiously by my Father, instead of it bringing me comfort, I was suffocated in grief. That’s when the frayed strings of my sanity began to tear and break loose. That’s when the sickness pooled to the surface and I found myself drowning in my own self-hatred.

You don’t deserve to live. You are a worthless excuse for a human being. You break everything you touch. You are nothing.

I couldn’t breathe as tears stung at my eyes, threatening to pool along my lash line and escape in streams of liquid emotion down heated skin. A tremble had started in my hands and no matter how I tried to fight off the horrible thoughts ripping through my brain, the anxiety and panic only intensified and my heart felt like it was going to reenact a scene from Alien and morph into a chestburster at any moment.

Somehow, later on in the early hours of night…it ebbed and began to fade away. It had reached a dangerous level and nearly pulled me apart at the seams. Thankfully, its attempts to destroy me from the inside out were futile.

It’s rare when my emotions go through a nuclear melt down during my Monthly Self-Destruct Sequence. The ‘crazy’ generally happens prior to said event, not during. When it does, it’s bad. Very bad. The term, ‘mentally unstable’ seems almost too gentle for the madness that coursed through me.

*chuckles and shakes her head before taking another hefty drink of her coffee*

“Hello? Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone at home?” I heard these words singing in my head when my eyes fluttered open this morning. “Come on now, I hear you’re feeling down. Well, I can ease your pain and get you on your feet again.”

The strangest part is as Pink Floyd’s, ‘Comfortably Numb’ played only certain lines through my thoughts as I rose from sleep, I was beginning to remember my dreams. Namely, I was speaking to my Dad.

It was nothing more than a blip in a series of different dream segments. Yet for some reason, this was the one I remembered above all the others. The one that I know was a message I was meant to recall and study once I was awake.

We were watching tv and Sigourney Weaver made an appearance. Dad had said, “15 months.” Something to do with how much time she had left. Saddened by the news I replied softly, “No! Aw, dammit. I’ve always wanted to meet her and now I won’t get that chance.”

I don’t think it means she’s going to die. It felt more like she was going away. But the number 15 means something. It could be 6 or the 15^th or 15 days, etc. It was definitely Dad and his voice is still dancing behind my eyes as though I just spoke to him. It’s also very odd that I would wake with that song playing in my head as though I was listening to the radio when I fell asleep to only the sound of the rain trickling gently along the roof.

Whether it’s my subconscious using him as a way to speak to me or it was actually him visiting me in dreamscape, the message was heard loud and clear. No idea what it means, but I’m sure I’ll figure it out when I’m meant to. That’s usually how it works for me anyway.

Well my luvlies, it’s time I bid thee anon and find something interesting to occupy my brain-meats with.

-Adieu

Messages within the Rain

Gray skies weep softly as the sun fights to push it's life giving rays through the thick cloud layer. What should be a brightening skyline is replaced by rain filled billows of moisture, causing the air to smell crisp and fresh. It's a beautiful early January morning, the fifth day of the new year and I find myself sitting out on the back porch, hidden away from the soft pattering of rain while an array of strange dreams continue to echo playfully behind my eyes. 

Familiar places, morphed into something new yet old at the same time. A skewed perception of an apartment I grew up in, familiar yet not the same. A somewhere that felt like home so I would feel more at ease. Funny how dreams never quite make sense when you try to recall them, as though the layers in which they are formed would seem almost like a Salvador Dali painting come to life. Seemingly normal at the time they took place, for in that altered state we are all on an internal journey of our own subconscious, where even the most bizarre of things are rarely questioned. Only when we're brought back into our waking selves; a small rebirth into the harshness of our realities do we try to rationalize what we've experienced. Which can sometimes be overwhelmingly confusing.

I've always been able to work out the meanings presented within that strange labrynth I traveled before I woke. Sometimes it's obvious and I'm aware of the message before my eyes open and I take a deep breath. Yet there are times when there are too many symbols, too many images and moments that may take an entire day Or even two, to decipher. 

Then there are the dreams that sneak toward the forefront of my mind when something in the waking world happens; almost like déjà vu. The message having literally come to life. Those are usually known as 'Prophetic Dreams', experiencing something through the subconscious only to have it actually happen when you're awake. Sometimes subtle or so very minute you don't think twice about it...when sometimes it's like a sensory memory and you feel as though you're suddenly dreaming. 

I tend to have those dreams often, mostly the subtle variety. A song will play randomly like background music (especially odd when I sleep without listening to music) and I'll hear it within a few hours after waking. 

I have this odd ability of knowing how certain people are feeling if I dream about them. If it's very realistic and they're in a good mood, excited to be talking to me again, when I wake I'll know I'll be hearing from them soon, and it always happens. If they're weird towards me, or even angry, when I'm awake...well, the same thing. I don't know why I can do this, it's been happening since I was very small. It actually comes in handy quite often when I haven't heard from someone in awhile. Weird yet kinda cool.

*pauses to take a hefty drink of her magical coffee of doom*

Damn, I love mornings like this. It's not sprinkling like it was when I first started this entry, now it's actually coming down in a steady rhythm of cold, wet sheets. I can only imagine what the freeways and major streets are going to be like here in Southern California. People out here are slightly inept when it comes to driving in rain. That's putting it very nicely... *chuckles* And as I was typing that out, I could hear the very distinct, high pitched sound of sirens off in the distance. Nothing like stupid people, bald tires and bad driving on slick pavement.

On that note, I need to put my laundry into the dryer and wake up. Well, on days like this all I want to is curl up in bed and listen to that beautiful sound of rain pattering against the roof of the house. 

*scampers off do so but decides to write a bit more*

Last month was harder emotionally than I had expected it would be. I tried to be a part of the Christmas spirit, but I felt...jaded. I was starting to shut down inside as old emotions began to surface. Emotions I thought I had already dealt with. Apparently that just wasn't the case. I thought I'd be okay, better in fact due to being in a much healthier and stable environment than the previous year. Maybe that's why those emotions took hold; I feel safer that I have since 2011. Before Dad got sick and my life began to tilt on its axis towards events I was never prepared for.

I really tried to be 'jolly' and there were a few moments I felt festive. But that sinking feeling in my chest only worsened and I found myself growing cold inside. Knowing that December 20th was Dad's 68th birthday...but he wasn't here. Knowing that this Christmas Eve was my birthday but I wouldn't celebrate it...there would be no party, no cake; over shadowed by the eve of a now very commercialized holiday. I realized why I had gone cold inside. The bitterness was welling up inside me and I had to fight it back so no one would see it just behind my eyes. So I tried something different; I chopped my hair off and got two new cartilage piercings on my Dad's birthday. I'm actually glad I did. I really don't miss my long hair because it wasn't that long to begin with (not to my standards) and I really wanted to change. 

I'm trying to do my best to remain positive, still plan on getting Ellie running right so I can begin driving her again. 

I'm still incredibly grateful to every beautiful soul that has selflessly helped me these past few years. Especially last year when I was starting to entertain some very dark thoughts that would've put a permanent stop to any kind of future. They...still pop up from time to time, more than I'd care to admit and I find myself pushing them away by trying to look forward. It doesn't help that my skin condition decided to flare up around my birthday and is still healing. Being in that kind of pain, brought on by internalized stress, heart ache and old emotions... It tends to wear you down, even if things are finally appearing to slowly get better again. 

I'm focusing on small things that bring me joy or a sense of purpose. Little things that I know make a profound difference at the end of the day. I want to be better, so that one day I can have the means to give back. That's honestly all I've ever wanted. 

And as the rain pours down all around me, an icy wind whipping along the back of my neck, I shall bid you lovelies anon and try to find something positive to distract myself with.

-Adieu