Remembering What Was...

Cool air trickles along heated skin as streams of warm sunlight pour down from the heavens, only to pool against the sleeping earth. A sense of peace curls through a tired form as song birds fill the world with their joyful voices.

I take a slow drink of hot coffee from my Nightmare Before Christmas thermos and let out a contented sigh. There's a scent in the air of something hidden; a familiar aroma that sends tiny sparks of electricity through me. Meaning two things... Spring is approaching as well as my second home; Renn Faire.

The smile on my lips falters followed by a strange tightening against my ribcage. Bittersweet is the word to describe the ache I feel. 

Two years today, my faire sister Lory skipped ahead of us toward the rainbow bridge where her white familiar Gemini sat waiting for her. 

Unshed tears glisten along my lash line yet none escape as a small smile tugs at my lips.

Just a few days ago, I had told a few friends that since her passing, I had been visited by random bees at the strangest times and that I knew it was a message from her (she had a mischievous sense of humor). Oddly enough, yesterday morning while sitting outside having my first cup of coffee, a bee decided to buzz around me. At first I figured the poor thing was just lost. Until it came back two more times; the third time bringing it's sister. I knew I wasn't in danger, I was just annoyed...and started laughing to myself when the image of Lory popped in my head, with that devious little grin on her face. Originally I was in a very bad headspace when I first got up... After the Bee visit, my mood lifted just slightly. That was something she was always good at and knew exactly what to do to get me to smile despite how grumpy I'd be in the morning.

I think back now and find myself smiling rather than crying. But this ache will only worsen over the next two days. Even though tomorrow is Friday the 13th (one of my absolute favorite days) the day after will break my heart. 

I've never been very fond of Valentine's Day (bullshit commercialism at it's finest) but this V-Day will be much harder for me to stomach. It'll be 6 years that I had to help my black Familiar Mickey to the other side...and 9 months to the day that Dad slipped away.

-pauses to take a steadying breath as it becomes harder to breathe against the pressure building inside a large ribcage-

I acknowledge the ache of their loss...and try so very hard to cling with a white-knuckled grip to those memories that leave a quiet smile in my eyes. 

This year at faire will be bittersweet for me... Dad was always so adamant about me going to faire because he saw the profound effect it had on me. Even while he was stuck in that damned hospital bed at the VA hospital in Loma Linda, he encouraged me to go and loved hearing about my weekends when I'd stop by on my way back from Altadena to spend time with him before heading home to Beaumont. One of my biggest regrets was meeting Abraham Benrubi and not snapping a picture with him to show Dad. He had always loved him in Buffy and when he made a guest appearance in X-Files. 

-takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly-

One thing I've learned the hard way, is to have no regrets and to take hold of rare opportunities that present themselves. To live each day as if tomorrow will never come. No matter how much my anxiety grabs onto me and makes me feel small and stupid, I'm gunna stop thinking, take a deep breath and just live.

-gives a small smile- 

Gotta love early morning ramblings.

On that note, I shall bid thee Anon and get me s'more magically strong coffee of doom.

-Adieu 

Learning from the Silence

Cool air whispers past as the sky glows a soft baby blue with the coming of dawn. Yet another beautiful morning blessed by the deep chill of autumn. 

I find myself sitting out within nature, wrapped in warm clothing to offset the cold as I drink my strong coffee from a nightmare before Christmas thermos and write in my leather bound journal. Icy fingers gently caress the exposed flesh of my face, cooling the hot skin around my eyes as a chilly breeze dances around me.

I enjoy these moments in nature, my quiet solitude where I can remain still before another day filled with noisy interactions. 

Endless thoughts trickle and weave behind these tired eyes as I struggle to place them in order in my memory warehouse. As the days draw closer to All Hallow's Eve, a deep ache has begun to surface. One followed by heart wrenching memories spent with my father.

This was his favorite time of the year. Something we both shared.

Each day has been weighing heavily upon my mind, causing my chest to tighten with emotions that have a way of beating me down until I'm drowning within their wake.

Despite my recent and rather explosive change of outlook on life and myself, the gaping wound inside my heart begins to tear and reopen. Reminding me that I have not fully recovered and the pain is still as sharp as it was the day he left me behind.

Try as I may, the strength I've found within myself is no match when faced with the broken heart of a little girl who's lost her hero. I've tried to quell her wailing, to comfort the inner child who doesn't understand why Daddy had to go. I thought she had finally calmed, but I'm once again struggling to keep myself steady as the sound of her weeping echoes a tragic melody within the depths of my mind.

I find myself becoming callous to it, acknowledging the pain but indifferent to the feeling. I simply cannot afford to break down. Not when there's still so much to do and little time to do it. I have made myself a machine; a force of nature that will power through every obstacle it faces and come out the other side mostly intact. Only when the world has calmed and the engine is allowed to finally cool down, able to shut off and be still...only then will I allow her mourning to surface. 

Until that time I will embody the essence of stone and get through the challenges placed before me.

No matter how much it stings every time I take a deep breath, I must remain cold. It is an odd sensation, being able to hollow yourself out to continue forward. To push aside all the white noise of emotion for a sharp focus. There's a strange comfort within that living silence. That secret place I go when I'm at the edge of an emotional abyss and I'm losing the war with myself. In that quiet darkness I can see where my path leads and what I must do to get there. 

So I reemerge as something else. A shell of a person whose eyes reveal something terrible peering out. But it's only temporary. A means to an end. It will help me get to where I need to be then sink back into the depths from whence it came.

There is still an echo that will haunt me no matter how still or callous I am. The heart will fight no matter how broken it has become and will remind me of how very precious each moment is. 

Life is a series of chance, such fleeting moments that many take for granted in their appearance only to find themselves with regret years later. I have always cherished those moments, even when I was too young and naive to understand the impact of that truth. To live each day as though it were last. To love fully, forgive the mistakes others, to be in awe of nature and the life coursing through your veins. To realize that in an instant, it can all be taken away. Time is merely an illusion one tells oneself in order to avoid confronting their own fears. You miss out on so much experience and wisdom when you hide behind your own self imposed limitations.

Each new day is a gift. Another chance to live and embrace the life you still have. No matter how painful, there is always beauty. It's your very own perception that blinds you. Life won't wait for you to make up your mind. It's a relentless unforgiving beast that will stop for no one. Half the time it's trying to take you out. That's why it's so important to understand why you've got to get up, dust yourself off and keep going. To truly fail, is to just give up and never try.

I don't know about you, but I enjoy the challenge. Let it try to beat me down. I've come this far, and I don't plan on giving up anytime soon.

'Don't let the bastards get you down.' And I don't intend to.

Dad taught me that. 

-Adieu-

Contemplating while Caffeinated

Is it enough to be able to type these thoughts...releasing them into a world of light and noise? I pause my fingers; the soft tapping of long nails against black keys fading into the silence around me. 

My heart pounds beneath a strong ribcage; thump-thump, thump-thump. Reminding me there are forces at work inside me allowing me to even breathe, let alone think and be able to write those thoughts out for everyone to see.

Life in itself is such an enigma of workings. All the factors that have to come together to create such a thing...a tiny storm of chaos, complex and ever changing... It makes you realize how precious each moment really is.

My reflective mindset is due to the memories of my Father...and that today, is 5 months that Death came, and took him home.

Today I am going to make a change. To show the transfiguration of within.

I am not who I used to be. I say this with an eerie calm and gentle clarity. She is gone. 

I, remain.

Who that is exactly...well, it's still a work in progress.

So much happening and yet I don't want to give too much away. Not yet, not yet.

Things in motion, irrevocable change, a shifting from one stage into another. Metamorphosis and rebirth.

When the wings finally dry, I'll share what's to come. 

-Anon-

'The Red, it filters through'

I woke up with a terrible heaviness against my ribcage, as though something buried deep inside was out-growing the confines of its cage and was slowly starting to push the bars outward into the flesh around it. I took a sharp breath, placed my fist against the center of my chest and embraced the pain.

You don't heal from the wounds of broken yesterdays, you hollow yourself out and make room for the pain. You take it into yourself and let it become apart of you. You make it yours. And that's precisely what I've done.

This will not rule me. I carry the strength of my ancestors within my veins. Strong souls that fought to survive. Souls that carried the heavy burden of a hard life with no one but themselves to depend on. Their strength flows through me and I am not afraid. 

I've faced the darkness inside me and realized...we're not so different. Every facet of who I am, darkness and light. The inner child and the raging beast...we are one.

I have been lost for too long. I made it through the crossroads. I know where I'm going now. 

There is nothing but death itself that can stop me. I am not worthless. I am not weak. I am not broken. To be able to breathe each morning, to be able to face each new day...is a blessing. The tunnel vision had, has been lifted and I can the trees within the forest again.

I embrace this horrific ache inside of me and no longer focus on what created it. Because what it all boils down to, is this simple truth. It is mine and no one elses. It's buried within me and I'm the only one responsible for it. My emotions are my own. Period.

Today I celebrate being able to type these thoughts, these revelations. I am grateful for the life I've been given. No matter how hard it's been or what horrors and trials I still have to face... I know now, that I am my own obstacle. The walls around my soul have been broken and have become nothing more than shadows and dust. There is a strange kind of calm pooling around my clouded thoughts. An odd kind of knowing; a cold, calculated instinct that's slithering hidden truths through the blood that flows through these veins.

There is so much more to me than I ever realized. The strength of my Father hides behind my eyes. Remembering his words of wisdom. My anchor, my internal lighthouse to guide me back from the depths of my own personal hell. He would tell me to get angry, focus and keep going. That I was the Daughter of a Sailor, and god help the poor sonuvabitch that pissed me off.

-chuckles softly- As much as the pain of his loss still stings, I find myself finding comfort in the memory of him that still lives in my heart. He's still with me. A piece of him I can reach out to and find strength in when I'm at odds with the world and everything in it. All I have to do is calm myself and simply listen...and he's there.

This downward spiral has ended. It's a fresh start, and how convenient that it would all come together on October 1st. 

I may not be completely healed, but I can keep moving forward with fresh wounds and tattered scars. They don't haunt me, they simply remind me that I'm very much alive. A beautiful symphony of moments etched into the flesh, both inwardly and outwardly. My soul an open canvas of the story I continue to paint as my thoughts fill the chapters of a book that still has so much left to be written.

Chrysalis removed, the flames having purified and burned away what I used to be. I take these few new steps toward a future yet unknown, but of my own making.

I've been underestimated, beaten down, lied to, used, treated like I was nothing more than a toy, treated like I was inferior. That my thoughts and emotions weren't valid, that I was stupid and worthless and irresponsible. I was too ugly, too fat, too scarred, too emotional. That I couldn't do anything right. That I was a mistake and should've never been born.

Guess what? 

I'm still here.

I bring light and warmth to everyone I meet. I am genuine in my motives and feelings for others. I am more forgiving than I should be. We all hurt, we are all damaged and I sure as hell won't be there to cast the first stone. No one is perfect. I do forgive others for their mistakes, no matter the severity. But I Never Forget. 

I've learned so much...and have found strength in dying a little inside. We all change, we all move forward. We all become so much more then we ever thought we could be.

I am not the person I used to be and honestly, she wouldn't have been able to hack it. So I've removed the lingering weakness and replaced her.

I am Onyx Wildcat, an Angel in Chaos and I refuse to bow.

In fact, this life will bow to me or I'll break it.

"No Power in the 'Verse can stop me now."

-Wildcat-

Crimson Dreamscapes

Dreams can be an escape from the twisted pathways of an unwanted reality. Sometimes, they take you to places you'd never dare travel on your own. Sometimes they force you to face aspects of yourself you never wanted to see.

They force you to face your inner demons...

They make you truly See what's hidden so deep beneath the surface. All the chaos and anger you bury. All the hatred and damage buried beneath the rubble of a broken spirit. You're made to see the fragmented pieces you thought had faded away. You're forced to see who you really are...

Some call those dreams Nightmares... I call them self awareness. Seeing the Monster for what it really is... Just a twisted form of me.

Last night, when I finally fell into unconsciousness I found myself pulled into yet another familiar place. It was night and I was in a house I keep dreaming about. It's not here in california. It honestly looks like Oregon. It's the same area, the same streets and sidewalks. The same clear skies above a thick canopy of trees. This place has been showing up in every dream I've had since Dad died. I believe it's where I'm going... And every time I dream of it, the image is clearer and it feels more and more like home. It's where I belong.

When I was first walking through the house, I found a door to a room I hadn't entered before. I opened it and peered inside and saw the right side profile of a man, made of shadows... He went from sitting to standing. I closed the door and it took a moment for my brain to realize Who that shadow was. I opened the door and when I looked inside to seek him out...he was gone.

It was Dad.

Once again, it was a brief moment, he was in the other room, but this time I caught a glimpse of his outline and shadow...but I missed him.

-sighs-

The next part of the dream is just as odd. A few friends were in the house with me and I remember looking out toward a window that faced the backyard (no fence) that peered out into the forest. A Huge Grizzly Bear approached the window frame (there was only a screen seperating us) and it's shoulders were wider than the window, so it couldn't get through. The thing is, the window was almost six feet wide. It was Massive. Someone who was standing off to the side exclaimed, "Hey Erin, looks like someone wants to talk to you." And they didn't seem all that afraid of this mammoth grizzly approaching the window.

At first, neither was I. Until it reared its lips back and started roaring at me. It was Pissed...and I knew it was because of me. It was a literal manifestation of all the rage building inside of me. 

I knew it wasn't going to hurt me, but it was frightening. It's amber hazel eyes seemed to shimmer brilliant golds and fiery reds as it snarled and growled for me to face it. The scariest part... Those were my eyes, in the face of this incredibly dangerous animal. She was fucking livid.

The dream shifted and I was with four guy friends that I knew were all very protective of me. One in particular was the sweetest on me, but I can't remember his face. I just know he had light hair and pale eyes; possibly blue/green and had a deep voice. He was an old friend, someone I knew I could trust and be safe with. The reason the four guys were around me is because they were protecting me from something that was out in the woods...something that was hunting me. And the bear was the last thing they were worried about. It was something unnatural. 

While we were all camped out in this house, everything was very dark, possibly close to midnight and the power was coming from a generator on the side of the house. It was like we were in a cabin in the middle of very thick woods.

I was wrapped in a blanket and sitting out back, looking up into the starlit heavens as the other three patrolled the house. The fourth was holding me. I felt loved.

I can't remember exactly what happened, but the next thing I know there was a wound on the lower half of my left leg. I didn't freak out, if anything I expected it. One of the other three was there, wondering what happened because I was literally Covered in blood. And it wouldn't stop. I told them it wasn't a big deal, I just had to squeeze the poison out. And even though I was running the garden hose over it, I couldn't get the blood off. All I could see was red, all over me, making my pale skin appear ghostly. They were terrified that I'd lose too much blood, but I told them this was normal. That I was stronger than I looked... I wasn't afraid. Even though...it's the most blood I've seen in a dream in a very long time.

I honestly looked like Carrie's stunt double.

It was just... Weird. 

I also remember in another fleeting part of the dream, three Lynx cubs playing around me. And the smallest kept rubbing against my legs. The darkest markings with the lightest amber hazel eyes and black ears...a small female.

While this was happening, there was a Huge wolf nearby just watching us. Specifically, his electric blue gaze were trained on my face. And it was as though he was made of fog and shadows, but I remember those eyes... He was looking right through me. As if waiting...

No idea what any of it means... Well, no, I actually do...most of it anyway.

-smirks- The blood generally means something big is about to happen and happen fast. Heh...we'll see.

Toodles.

-Anon-

Venting Thoughts

There are whispers within these walls... Confused and tattered; bloodied things with no purpose. Hollowed and broken from years of pain and neglect. I've tried so very hard to stay stable. To not become something I've never known before. I don't know what's happening to me. Anger, courses through me like a tyrant hellbent on destroying the heavens and all that lie beneath.

I'm at war with myself. I don't recognize the person in the mirror. The lines are too harsh, the eyes are too piercing; scrutinizing everything for a weakness. 

Damaged. That term is so very accurate in describing my spirit. I can't put myself together the same as before. Too much of myself has been lost or washed away from the waves of chaos that's drowning my existence.

Do I really have to become a monster in order to save what's left of me?

I don't like these thoughts, I especially don't like the way I'm feeling. It's either a terrible stillness or overwhelming rage. I can't pin it down, fight it back or make peace with it. It simply, Is and there really isn't anything I can do to make it go away. Because you can't kill what keeps you alive. I'm barely functioning as it is and this seems to be the thing that's helping me continue forward. I suppose it's normal? Is it? I really don't anymore.

Too many thoughts and not enough words to speak them. 

As gifted as I may seem with poetry and prose, I'm terrible at expressing what's really going on in my head and how I'm feeling. I'm wired differently. Sometimes, the only way I can truly get my feelings understood, is in person and not the way you'd think. More often than not, it's written all over me. My face, my body language. My voice. My eyes especially... They scream out when I have no voice left to call for help.

Singing especially gets the emotions felt. And yea... I've got some talent for hitting all the right notes. It's sad really... I used to sing so much, it helped...god did it help. But over the years, being forced into silence due to not having any privacy or place I could sing without being heard... I stopped and began to hate my own ability.

I miss singing. I miss being able to push the poison out through song. It was so freeing. As was being on stage. Being able to vent repressed emotions through a completely different person (the character I was portraying) it was incredibly therapeutic. But I've lost that too... Or misplaced it.

Shit, I feel misplaced. Left to my own devices I've been on a downward spiral. I'm trying so hard to be positive and believe in a better day...it's just, so fucking hard. 

I'm being honest here, because I know it helps and I have incredibly wonderful souls that I am beyond blessed to call friend. I know you're all worried about me, or at least curious as to my highs and lows and dare I say, 'emo behavior' as of late. -chuckles at herself-...gods kill me I just referred to myself 'emo'... Sweet Thor please strike me down -shakes her head in utter shame-

I'm a mess. Mentally, emotionally...physically. The hardest lesson in all of this...what makes it soo much harder, is that when things were rough, I could always talk to Dad. He knew me better than anyone. He knew when I didn't have a voice to speak what was going on inside of me, he knew how to speak for me, to give the right words to say, to give my thoughts a voice. He understood me to where I didn't have to talk in circles because of my horrific fucking anxiety. He knew me... And I didn't feel so alone. I didn't feel crazy because someone understood when I couldn't speak. Because he could feel it and I didn't have to say it...

-completely loses it-

This hurts so much... I fucking hate these tears; spilling useless buckets of salt over that which I cannot change. I miss him so much... Dammit I hate this.

It so much harder without him...without his guidance, without his warmth. It's so fucking cold now...it almost feels like life has no meaning anymore. 

This pain is worse than I can convey. It's every day. Every moment. I try...god dammit I try so hard to buck up and soldier through everything... But he was the one stable thing in my entire life... And I feel fucking shattered because he's gone and I'm left with these fucking internal wounds.  

I'm so deeply scarred now... 

Wishing he was still here. Wishing I didn't feel uneven and hollow. Wishing I didn't feel at all.

-stops to calm down and violently wipes at her face-

It's worse because in times like these, when my thoughts were so scattered and skewed and I couldn't make heads or tails of a situation... He was the calm voice that brought me back from the brink. And that's gone now. So I'm not handling myself very well... And I am sorry to anyone and everyone who may be affected by it. It's not on purpose...

I just don't know who I am anymore...

...I feel like I'm becoming a monster...

-Onyx-

Cruelty in Dreamscapes

So much to be learned from experience. Great lessons taught, possibly in the harshest of ways so that the soul will open its eyes to the painful truth that nothing is ever what it seems. The innocence one tries so desperately to hold on to, to shelter from the terrible reality of this existence, to protect it from the agony of deceit. From everything that's out to destroy it. 

The innocence I've fought so hard to keep safe has been wounded and lies huddled in the corner, weeping. Helpless to watch as it mourns the loss of itself. Becoming numb at the sheer cruelty from heartless souls that only take until there's nothing left but a hollow shell.

But something has been summoned by the warm tears pooling down the innocent's face. A terrible energy brought forth like a waiting leviathan awakened after a long hibernation. A silent rage courses through its veins at the sight of the inner child curled up in pain. 

An unacceptable vision that will not go unavenged.

The terror from within curls its massive form around the innocent, allowing that broken purity to bury itself against its protective warmth. Guarding what's left of that precious light as predatory eyes peer into the distance...finding the very thing that's caused such a travesty. Glowing orbs narrow on the target, causing its lips to curl up and away from rows of dagger like teeth in a silent snarl. 

Such an act will not go unpunished. The beast will remain still, allowing the wounded innocent to heal and find some kind of peace again. As time passes, it will lie in wait...giving it time to bring a plan into focus; processing it within the catacombs of a methodical mind.

It has been sleeping for too long. Remaining hidden in the hopes that it would never have to rise... That the innocent would remain unharmed. But the fates have their own agenda...harsh lessons beaten into the gentle soul of an innocent that has only had the purest of intentions. 

This will not be allowed to simply fade into the winds as though it never happened. There are consequences. A reaction to every action. Whatever one sends out into the universe, they will get back three fold.

A shimmer of cold blue/fire glares defiantly within the darkness. 

A silent promise of what's to come...

...nothing will ever be the same.

-Fades to Black-