Thursday, April 13, 2017

Where the hell have I been?!

I can feel it deep within churning, unsettled. Seething. There’s a fire beginning to blossom within the inky blackness of my internal warehouse. A soft glowing ember casting gentle rose colored light along cold, gunmetal walls. I can feel something there, hidden inside its growing light. An oddness that becomes ever so distinct. A heartbeat. I can feel its gentle thunder; a sacred rhythm within its shimmering core as the glow begins to swallow the shadows all around it. The beginning of the end… The words play behind my eyes like a mantra as this once soft ember begins growing into a brilliant flame. There are truths flickering playfully along the delicate curves of this dancing light. Old and ancient things only my soul can decipher. Not yet, not yet… The words whisper voicelessly within the endless catacombs of my inner labyrinth made of flesh and bone.

The words have long since eluded me; flecks of lights drifting into a vast open void of nothingness and creation. Where the shadows dwell. My hidden sanctuary. The place I go when the world is too loud, too bright, too harsh. I slip into that mystic space and feel myself expand. The constraints of reality torn away leaving me weightless, unrestrained. Free. A home where nothing can find me, harm me. The realm of nightmares… My guardians that come at my call. They swarm and slither, their obsidian forms a macabre chorus of beautiful horror only my twisted heart would love. The sound of their soft hissing fills the air as they flood the room. Blacker than the shadows around them; sentinels of my soul.

Peace weaves through me and I am who I’m meant to be. Calm, serene, unafraid. The terrors that would haunt any brave soul are my gentle warriors. My comfort. My family. They surround me, laying before me, around me. Safe.


I am truly alive in the hidden place, where the broken fragments of who I used to be are slowly, carefully, being pieced back together into a better me. A stronger me. Something I can be proud of; no longer haunted by the echoing tragedies of misplaced yesterdays. There is, however, a single truth I will forever live by. I am not a victim. I refuse to ever deem myself as such. Yes, I’ve journeyed through various degrees of living hells that will forever scar the heart held deep within, but I am no victim. I walk with wisdom, with experience. Not with a label claiming I am a porcelain doll. A silent exclamation that I’m fragile and in need of special treatment lest I break. That I’m incapable of being strong enough to drag myself forward, despite how battered and bruised I appear. I am not a damsel, no matter the degree of distress I may be in.

When I find myself feeling the vulnerability of my hidden wounds beginning to surface, I go into the shadow. I immerse myself in their comfort, their safety. To quell the chaos screaming behind my eyes so I can emerge as myself, more or less. It’s the introvert in me. I pull away to suss out my internal damage, seek out the ways of self-healing and when I’m tired of being alone, I return. Simple.

There is much I have discovered while licking my wounds. There are truths about myself I wasn’t entirely aware of, could never truly pinpoint or understand. Now, I have a better grasp on why I act or react to things the way that I do. Also the realization that I am deeply flawed and have a somewhat odd perception on the world around me. I truly do dance to the beat of my own drum. But there is nothing wrong in this. I’m simply me; weird, hopeful and eccentric. Not in the ‘Look at me because I’m soo different and unique!’ kind of way. Dear gods, no. Because I understand that though I walk a different path, there are others like me. Perhaps not many, but they exist. I know better than to assume the ‘special snowflake’ syndrome. Ugh, don’t get me started on how that irks me…

I digress.

My point is, that I’m aware of my quirks. The things that even if I don’t agree with, things that I find embarrassing, they are simply me. I’m accepting every skewed piece of myself. Because this is the only life I have. A short, painful and sometimes absolutely beautiful one that I plan to hold on until I’m finally ready to let go. Which, will not be for a very long time.

I know that my behavior has been somewhat worrying. My distance having been for longer periods of time and when I do return and speak, it’s more cryptic and less the bubbly overly silly expression than before. As though a piece at time, I lost more of that optimistic light.

The part of me that was so enthusiastic. So willing to be open and honest and frankly…vulnerable. After every wall that I’ve hit, every new scar etched into my metaphorical flesh; wounds so deep within my mind they will take a lifetime to heal… I have become so much more reserved. There is still that part of me that wants to burst forth like a solar flare of happiness and joy. To bring warmth to everyone that light touches, regardless of who they are or what they think of me.

But there is a more dominant part of my personality that once was dormant, biding its time in that secret labyrinth where my guardians dwell. A part of me that has no use for such sharing; vulnerability. Leaving me open time and again for attack. No, that is something it simply will not abide. This quiet storm that guards every piece of me fighting to heal into something that vaguely resembles who I used to be. It wants the best for me. Protecting this shell as the soul finds its footing again and relearns how to fill this shattered space.

I will never be who I used to be. That’s obvious. If you were to go back in this blog, to the beginning…you will see the changes happening in every post I typed. You will see how I started to transform and that I was in fact, aware of it. I knew it would come to this. I knew that I would never be the same person I was when I started this blog. Especially when Dad’s illness took hold. That’s when this me now, began to manifest. The life that I had planned, the life I was so hopeful about, the one I was ready to explore…to live in… Was ripped from my hands before I could truly get ahold of it.

It has hardened me. I have no patience for unneeded bullshit. I truly understand this truth, “If you don’t like me, why are you wasting your time telling me? Go use that energy on something that’ll benefit you.” I also understand the complexities of human behavior much more than I ever had. The emotional reactions to situations and how best to handle them. I watch others begin their experience and know that there are many ways for them to handle said situation. For a first time, I know it will not be easy. It will seem catastrophic. They will not react well. It’s to be expected. It’s only those that have gone through it time and again, those are the ones that walk with wisdom. Instead of boasting it to the world and all to hear how much they’ve been hurt, they keep it hidden, keep it locked away. It merely shows that they’ve been through it themselves and know that it too shall pass. No need to waste precious energy on something that will inevitably work itself out.

As I sit here, ready to conclude the thoughts that continue to pour through these fingertips like expert dancers along black keys… My phone is propped up to my left, music playing rhythmically into the air around me, keeping me calm. Background noise to fill the hollow space of my mind, forcing unwanted thoughts to remain quiet as I type.

Know that I am grateful for this ability to use poetic-prose as a means to convey the twisting war of my thoughts in a way that makes sense. That I’m still, in a sense, able to share parts of me even though I’ve grown rather distant and silent in the past few months. More than I ever have been. But perhaps, it’s nothing more than a phase and this is merely the beginning of something new. A better me…from the me I used to be.

On that not, I need more caffeine.

-Adieu

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