This is it. I’m coming out. Advertisements
Three Gods side by side discussing the cosmos and realities around them.
Two were great creatures, indescribable to me and indescribable because, trust me, I’m doing you a favour. They sat beside the source with darkness all around them yet they remained unafraid. Is this what the face of indifference looks like? To be sure of your existence and existing unafraid in the face of the endless void around them?
But I digress. I didn’t come here to talk about that, you can read my experiences elsewhere and earlier on in the blog. I came to ask for your help because I need help starting a fire. Perhaps “starting a fire” sounds too adversarial. I need your help solving a mystery.
It’s urgent because something is trying to enter this world. We just need to make sure it’s the right thing.
I only have a day dear reader so I will try to update you as often as I can, leaving as many clues as I can find across the various streams of reality.
Thank you to those that have helped me so far and a big thank you to the Warriors just coming on board.
“You know I’m not looking for a wife Joy, at least not in the way you understand it.”
Sango leaned forward, trapping her between his arms.
“I’m looking for a Priestess. Priestesses actually. Do you think you’re up for the task?”
Please come and take my soul but be gentle with me, please. I know how it feels to be hurt by a force much greater than me. Please, don’t be like that. The world keeps telling me you’re a killer and you hate me but please don’t be like that.
My heart is hurt and my soul is weary. Please, be gentle with me. Lift me up out of the waters of despair. Imbue me with confidence and the knowledge that you are alive, and that I am alive. Please, allow me to be safe with you. Don’t hurt me. Don’t punch me. Don’t abuse me. I know how all of those things feel and those don’t feel like love.
They feel like pain. Tears at the memory of your blows. Tears at the deaths of my friends and brothers. Restlessness through the night. Afraid to fall asleep lest you come in and kill me, or come in and rape me.
Is it you that is using me this way or is it someone else. She told me she was a witch and yet I walked straight to her. All I knew is, I hated you. I hated that you told me no one else would ever love me like you did.
It sounds sweet but is it true? How desperately do you want it to be true? Desperate enough that you would erase any knowledge of any other God from my mind? Desperate enough to punch a hole through my mind just so you can say you got here first? Or that you were strong enough to break through my defences?
Why must you beat me up? Hurt me when I’m not performing? Am I not doing what you bought me to do? Or am I simply not good enough for you?
Why did you buy me in the first place? Did you see me as less than human? Did you want a robot?
I see it now. I can see it so clearly.
They’re trying to build paradise.
How could I have been so blind?
I’m just writing this note to thank you for visiting my blog. For reading my posts, liking them, commenting on them, sharing them and following this blog.
I deeply appreciate all of your support.
It’s okay, this is what I want.
This is what I want to happen, for her to turn away from me and fall into the arms of another. Of someone more capable of living with her in this world.
I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt, that it didn’t make me want to scream in rage but this is what I asked for. It’s what I wanted all along. This image in my mind of her walking hand in hand with another man into the light, into brightness, into hope. It squelches my heart in the strangest way. I don’t see his face, my mind doesn’t want to but I see hers: smiling up fondly at his. The light, sunlight, warms her face and compliments her smile. She’s beautiful, she’ll always be.
I still don’t look at the man’s face, my heart can’t take it yet. A few months ago this image would’ve nearly shattered me, summoning forth barely containable torrents of anger. I would’ve projected my desire to die onto her, telling myself that it was her fault, that she was the one that wanted me dead…her or the man in this image. One of her countless admirers no doubt.
Insecurity, paranoia, and morbid depression make for a frightening cocktail of delusion.
So here I am, much calmer, still intent on dying. What I’m seeing is not the present but hopefully a future she’ll be happy in. I can’t give her what she needs, I can’t give that to anyone.
“You need to stay away from me, I’m not good for you.”
I listened to his words but I didn’t want to accept them. I desperately didn’t want them to be true. It means I would’ve been wrong about him, about everything.
I let the cool night air blow between us. The sky was bright with the twinkling of stars and I felt remarkably calm sitting next to him on the edge of the peak, staring into the world.
What did it matter? I thought to myself, the gnawing sadness reaching up to grab me. I let it. My soul is weak from fighting, I’m near my end anyway. That’s what I’ve been telling myself.
“I want to die.” I told him, even though he already knew. My mind caught up with my words and I paused as he looked at me, waiting for me to continue. He spoke before I could collect myself.
“Would you really leave her to him?” He asked me. I sighed and shuffled my feet.
“You know what my answer to that is already.” I replied.
He turned his gaze and stared ahead while I prepared my speech, bringing up memories and emotions I’ve tried, and failed, to bury.
“I felt something for her you know, something strong.” I began. “But I knew my limits, I knew my deficiencies. I knew what I couldn’t give her.”
I took in a few breaths.
“She already had him anyway, someone who could give her the things she needed, the things she really needed. Real things, food on the table, shelter, those things. Keep her warm, keep her safe. I couldn’t come between that. I secretly wished I could, but I couldn’t. She loved him, in a way that she couldn’t love me.”
“With her” I said, meaning my girlfriend. “I’m…”
The words stopped in my throat. Is that really what I was or is that what I’m trying to convince myself that I am, to make my death easier to go through with?
He soon spoke up for me.
“I know what you mean.” He said, focused on the hills ahead of us. “I’ve felt like a daydream before, a daydream that a woman fell hopelessly in love with. I fed her dreams, beautiful words, lovely ideas, things unseen and feelings unknown. She soon began to wither, like a flower unwatered. Her form shrank, close to the bone but she still looked at me with eyes devoted to love, with eyes devoted to me. I couldn’t take what I had done to her, so I left. It hurt me, but I had to leave her. It was the best thing I could’ve done for her. I’m a spirit and she is mortal, we live on…different things, different things entirely.”
He took a deep breath when he was finished and rubbed the bandages on his wrist. Like me, this is something he had buried deep. He looked at me.
“But you’re mortal, why are you letting this guy defeat you?” He asked, the question reaching deep into my soul.
What’s the true answer to that question? I asked myself, taking time to figure it out.
“I don’t know.” I responded. Perhaps truthful, perhaps not. I really wasn’t sure why.
“She deserves better than me.” I said after a while, a little shocked at how little it hurt to say that. Strangely, I smiled.
“In a dream, we’d be together.” I said, still smiling. “I’d love her without end. We’d be free, laughing, loving with nothing to interrupt or come between us.”
I took in a breath and my voice became a hint more serious.
“We’d be safe, secure. If there was a threat, I’d know how to fight.” I held out my hands and looked at them. “I’d know what tools to use.”
I dropped my hands, keeping them at my sides and I shook my head.
“I wouldn’t feel like she’d be better off without me.”
After a few moments, I shake my head. Deep down I know what I’m thinking isn’t right. She shares the same dream as me but the reality we live in is harsh, such dreams were made to die in this life. She’s much more practical that I am and also, I hate myself while she loves herself. The love she has for herself wouldn’t let her go down in a sinking ship of dreams with me because she knows who she is and what she can do for herself and the world. She’s strong, independent.
I don’t know what I am.