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Some Time Passed
The tidbit ramblings of a wayward and homeless mind.
Say my Name
To say I would never knowingly and intentionally betray someone, anyone, no matter how close, would be a grievous lie. But I would do so knowing the consequences of my actions, calculating my gains and losses and those of who would be affected by said betrayal. It isn’t half so childish, half so petty as to be used for anything less then what I have decided upon through long and repeated self searching. This is how I act on many things, those who’ve caught a glimpse should at least have some idea of that.
Which is probably why the idea that I have betrayed when I have not strikes deeper then I care to tell. I am human, I make mistakes, like anyone, and, when my pride allows, I will admit my mistakes; even apologize for pain and suffering I have caused, hell, mere inconvenience even. But this time, it seems, I have been branded, the title seared to my flesh before I had the chance to explain, make amends, or even realize my mistake. I will not apologize for someone else’s ill aim or misunderstanding. I will not suffer unearned wrath, nor will I make any promise that I shall not rise up with my own.
If you have so very little faith in me, in my word, in my friendship, then call me Betrayer. Let no other name for me leave your lips, find your thoughts or dwell in your heart. Do not dare strike me blindly; open your eyes and hit with all your might, believe in your motivation, your cause, lest I rage and consume you in return. Do not falter, for the moment I take the title Betrayer, that is exactly the role I must play, is it not?
I write in rage, in burning, ice-hot fury, the kind that physically hurts. I had held my tongue a day, fought from speaking to see if this would pass, if I would find enough fault in myself to forgive you and ask your forgiveness, extend sincere and heartfelt remorse for my failings. I will admit, either that day was no where near enough or I will maintain my stance.
I acted selfishly, out of a childlike terror masked in older, calmer will to protect that which I care for. I acted selfishly as one who sees the snowball rolling downhill as the beginning of a catastrophic avalanche. For my own gain, I employed a method to ensure that I didn’t have to sit back and watch another friend struggle with degenerating health that might easily slip beyond their control without warning. I am a cynic, a pessimist who acted out of deep rooted pain, something I warn myself against with every word I speak every action I take.
I will lay that out as my sin in this all, and that alone. I have explained, defended and done what I can to prove myself, and if there is no faith, no trust in me, I cannot hope to ever instill any in you.
You really do think I betrayed you, don’t you?
So be it then. Know me as Betrayer, and nothing more.


Night Owl Hits a Window
These late hours I keep are not healthy. They give me far too much time alone with myself. And I do not particularly like, nor get along with, myself.
I have never felt so entirely tormented. What I would give for a moment’s peace. Through much debate and deliberation, these witching hours that hound my thoughts accompanied in the silence of the time, I have discovered a deep seated unrest and anxiety in me. I have not been truly happy from some time now, any where from nine months to a year and am in some way desperately seeking that which might bring me even a moments joy or comfort from my inner demons.
I dreamed once of a great storm, in a place of fire and water, wind, rain, hail, sleet, thunder and lightning, though it was all in silence. I do not remember how long ago I dreamed of this storm, the storm that consumed me in the unconscious realm and tore me apart. Perhaps I spoke of it enough to elicit it from another’s mind…
This storm has settled deep in my maze, in a room all its own, and as I’ve traveled the outer walls, I’ve caught only glances from time to time of its rage and fury.
What brings it forth in these lonely hours of retrospect, I don’t know, but it grows heavy with each night’s passing. It pulls at me with horrible paradox that makes me want to scream, though again, I must swallow this against making some disturbance in the slumber of others.
To be held, to never be held. To hold, to never hold. To touch and to never touch, to be touched and to never be touched. To let myself slip, to close my eyes and attempt rest, to hold on with every last breath and fight, eyes forced open and carry on. Display no sign of faltering, no sign of weakness, to just break down.
I’ve never wanted so badly to just run away. And it’s never been so viable an option, so possible. Slip away in the night? I have access to money these days, access to a car, I technically know how to drive, at least the basics, and who’s out on the roads at 2 or 3 anyways besides the drunks and cops? Take out all my cash, leave the car somewhere it’ll be found and returned and disappear.
No need to worry, I won’t. Reason is too heavy a hand in my mind, despite everything, to allow such a foolish thing. It reminds me that even I disappear from everyone else, I can’t disappear from myself, and that’s truly what I’d be seeking if I did that. And I couldn’t live like that, I could escape, I couldn’t just abandon everybody.
I wear heavy chains, to keep me here. Chains I put on myself, chains I could break if I truly wanted, but chains I am not yet, nor do I see myself being willing to break.
My confidence is shattered. That much, is no paradox to me. In its place, I have only my pride to cling to as I struggle to jam the pieces back together before I lose it. The confusion is practically overwhelming when I can’t decide which direction to move in and there are no paths open at this hour anyways. So I agonize alone, and finally surrender to the rather futile and fitful pursuit of slumber and rise again to start over, if nothing else, my exterior refreshed to face another day and carry me through until I am left in this hour again, alone with myself, to fight myself.
As me of this in daylight, or in the hours I stand with another, and I will not speak of it as easily, or it will seem pointless and trivial, foolish, as I’m sure it is, even now. But it becomes so much realer in the dark and silence that only exist outside and will do nothing to help me within.
I’m beginning to think I fear the night as of late, or perhaps my dreams, without truly knowing it. Why else would I avoid them so? Why else would I keep such a vigil each night to surrender only to the morning? Why else would restful slumber elude me?
What is this anxiety and why will it not let me be?


Athena's Up and Running
My beauty, whom I have dubbed Athena, made her first voyage into the unknown that is the Interweb today. She's a sleek, powerful machine I was promised for graduating. I waited to the last possible minute to cash in on this promise, which originally was a laptop for school. Instead, it was transformed into a jam packed HP Desktop for all my programs to run amok on. While I have yet to sink all this power and newness with the bulk of my Creative Suite, I am hopeful Athena will be able to take the workload with ease.

As for talk of monsters and beasts, in spite of my best intents, I do believe a part of me followed it down that corridor, to become something else, something wilder and colder, and there is a part of me that is gone and something different, transformed with history wrapped only vaguely about it, to stand in its place, between me and the beast.
But do not worry.
I am still here.


Out of the corner of my eye
The Beast serves many functions, all of them on a very basic level of existence.
One such function is the annihilation of that which cause harm, from the outside at least.
Its gaze has shifted. Its lips have lifted in a snarl. A growl is rising from deep, deep down, soon to be a roar that will drown out all sound, keeping me locked in this one state. Fang and claw bared with malicious and violent intent.
If it gets loose, will I even care to repent?

Will I howl over the kill and eat my fill?

Dare me to let it loose.


A Paladin Has Come
So I've found another
It appeared sometime this morning, when I was alone, perhaps even as I slept.
He made his way calmly though the passage, moving through the shadows as though he could see perfectly, or didn't need to. Sometimes I wonder if their sight is better then mine...
He walked up, the literal white knight, and stood before the other monster, calling for its attention without a sound or even a gesture. He reminded me of a monk or priest, but slowly I saw him as a paladin, old and weathered, and not nearly as self-righteous or crusading. But with that same sense of power and control, you know? He's old, very old, and from somewhere deep. He had more then one charge in the past, but they're all gone now and he has his share of scars for it.
I think he's what the one I killed could have been, if it weren't for that wound to the chest from outside, because I sense he was the same as the other in his youth, and it is only time and experience that have given him this presence.
He sits, and sometimes stands, but always before the beast, always watching it with that same utter calm.
The beast sometimes sits, or lays out like the Sphinx, half its attention on this new thing and half still on its own amusements and desires. Silently, it will move, or begin to make its case, but the paladin always stops it, gently but firmly pushing it back. There's no aggression to their encounter, only communication, calm and quiet, but that may be because they have yet to be interrupted by outsiders.
While they sit together, I have time to rest, sit back and collect myself from my own wounds. I had underestimated the result of killing the other. There was some backfire, it seems.
I am fine for now. Perhaps this paladin was what I needed. But I do feel anxious for what else might be set free if he is wandering the hall as well.


Fae, hm?
User Image - Blocked by "Display Image" Settings. Click to show.
What type of Fae are you?

Rain, rain, come again and all other days


Fixed in place
So, I've cut my character off from everyone she knew, took her away from the place she grew attached to, just up and left. Now, she's away from it and back with her own kind. But still separate, you know? I'm good at that, at least I like to think I am, playing characters that don't quite fit, but do. Sort of become a fixture of somewhere, but maybe a bit out of place. I wonder if I'm like that? A fixture. I can't be, not solid enough. So what am I? Or am I? Am I anything but me? Strange.

Duck!
So, am I sick or not? What's the deal? Dying one minute, fine the freaking next. Bloody freaking hell people, come on now. I don't have time to be sick or achy or any of that crap. Especially when it hits out of nowhere like that. Moving along fine then...
WHAM!!!
Fall to the ground! Vomit, damn you, vomit! An invisible person is punching you in the stomach! There are little gnomes pounding on your head with hammers! Hahahahahaha! rofl
Nah, just kidding, you're fine, go on, get up. Geez, what, you thought something was wrong? Nah, just messing with you! You fell for it! talk2hand


neutral Seriously now, what the hell?


Feril
Community Member
Feril
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