What's to come...

Golden streams of light blanket the world outside of my shadowed hideaway as a cool breeze carries the sweet lullabies of bird song and life along its playful edge. It attempts to trickle past me, sneaking into the small opening of my darkened corner, but fails to capture my attention as a pair of small ear buds sit snugly within the cupping flesh of my ears, allowing the haunting melodies of my favorite music to distract me from the world itself. The soul igniting title music of Requiem for a Dream. I close my eyes and take a deep breath slowly, allowing the air to fill my lungs, enjoying the way they expand within their large cage of flesh and bone, hold it for a moment, lingering on that odd tightness…then like a shattered levee, I unleash it and feel myself begin to wither as though the emptiness I feel is all that remains. That it’s not merely an expression of emotion but a tangible thing. 

The words flicker and sway through the unseen winds of my memory warehouse as they slip from fingertips to the keys beneath them. Graceful in their movement along the screen, to be understood. To be seen. Wanting nothing more than to rid the self of the heaviness bearing down from within. A spirit weary, a soul crying out for a resolution to the coiling leviathan of pain twisting through the delicate pathways of a wounded heart.

I speak in poetic riddles, my secret language of honesty drenched in melodic prose. Desperate to escape this shell I have unknowingly cocooned myself in. The chrysalis of self-preservation no longer needed. To be like the coming of new life, to be free of what I once was. To emerge like the butterfly; beautiful in its new form and free. But I am no butterfly. I have become more like the Moth; a creature of beauty hidden under a darkened sky. Where the Moon is my goddess and I am a slave to the light despite how it burns me. To want so desperately to be near that warmth, that haunting glow… Only to realize it will be my very downfall.

Try as I may to be like so many that I admire, I find myself falling behind. My footsteps have gone still as I’ve unknowingly traveled along a path that has narrowed. One that no one has walked in what seems like ages. A forgotten path only the bravest or most foolish would venture. One there is no preparing for.

I feel a quiver of cold fear slither through me as I view my future footfalls along this new path; covered in thick, skin tearing thorns. There is no escaping them, no avoiding their razor edges. If I’m to keep going, it will not be easy. It will not be painless. Those thorns will rip pieces of me away as I force my way through them. I will not make it out the other side as I initially began. I know, within every fiber of my being, I will not recognize myself if I make it out alive. You’d think that perhaps for a moment, I would pause and weigh the options and consider the possibility of turning back and finding another way, an easier way. Perhaps it is Pride that refuses to fathom another way, or pure stupidity. I don’t have the luxury nor energy to go back… Besides, every forward movement of my weary form is only than swallowed by the keepers of time.

Sadly, there is no choice. There is nothing behind me but shadows and dust.

Muscles strain for a moment in hesitation before I finally put one trembling foot forward and already a thorn has sliced deeply into my calf; red bubbling to the surface and trickling down the pale flesh in stark contrast. The sting is sharp and immediate, but I don’t falter. I keep going. More cuts begin to cover my legs, more red welling to the surface, the pain a constant thing as I will myself onward. The thorns seem to close in, thicker, higher, and sharper; assaulting my entire form as I take one agonizing step after the next. It feels as though I feel nothing but this excruciating agony as I am now covered in that warm red water. I feel as though I will collapse, my body no longer strong enough to experience this self-induced torture… The echo of red footsteps in my wake…

Eyes closed in an attempt to shut out the agony, the constant reminder of where I am and what I’m doing…what it’s doing to me…

Suddenly, it stops.

Cool air presses gently along the open cuts littering my form and my eyes, slowly, carefully, flutter open.

The monstrous thorn bushes have receded and have faded into the nothingness behind me. Trembling, I suck in shallow breaths as the sting has morphed into a horrific throb along every inch of my bleeding body as I attempt to bring my arms close to my chest; gritted teeth holding back the hiss of mind-numbing discomfort as my flesh screams in protest at the simple action.

I force my tired eyes to focus on what lies before me and realize with an ache of confusion that I’m standing before a wall of thick, unearthly fog. It almost appears to be waiting for me as it swirls within itself like a clouded mirror.

Exhausted, weak and having nothing left to go back to, I take a few tentative steps toward the living mass of vapor. I know I should be afraid but perhaps I’ve experienced too much in such a short period of time for my mind to scream at me to stop, to be cautious. Or I’ve simply become too numb.

The thought of reaching out to investigate this wall of heavy mist dances behind my eyes, but I decide against it. I know what I have to do and trying to delay the inevitable is futile at this point.

There’s no use in trying to make sense of a thing when the world itself is bred of chaos. It is better to simply immerse myself and see what happens.

Besides, I have nothing left to lose.

-To Be Continued-

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

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