#afraid to let go of the pain

[remembertheplunge]

The generated ash wisdom of the days

April 22, 1991

Today, in a way, I  invite the dreaded grey insanity. Come eat me up you devil! You are my secret wind, aren’t you? Just playing tricks on me. Just playfully hiding one from me.

Why do I resist me? Why do I so restrict Life and her movements of grace?

I’m afraid of me.

I’m afraid to let go.

I’m afraid to let go of pain.

April 5, 1991

I met a guy who wondered around for 6 months without talking as result of an injury. He loved the experience. What would that be like?

End of entries:

Note: December 16, 2024

I found these two entries in my 1991 journal the other day. I decided to post them together because they kind of fit. Maybe the answer to being unable to let go of my pain is to not talk for 6 months! More and more as I move through my day I ask , “What does my existence need now?” It needs me to be as close as possible to clear consciousness. No thoughts. Just being aware of self and environment. 

The dreaded grey insanity that I referred to in the first entry above was my job as a Deputy Public Defender. It's relentless harshness led to the gifts of insight and a deeper truth and sense of being. These are the things I was accusing it of hiding from me. It all led my pen to the page. And the journal entries captured the generated ash  wisdom of the days.

[s0fter-sin]

ghost stares at the ceiling, chest heaving in a harsh pant; sweat ice on his clammy flesh and soaked into the sheet he restlessly kicks away.

ears still ringing, his fingertips blindly drift down to trail along his vivisection scar. he half-expects blood to smear in their wake. his own line of solomon, who ordered him split in twain; half of him given to a grieving mother and half left with the grieving to be.

just for both his broken halves to be rejected.

what did it make him that his mother grieved him more than she loved him? that she begged to be relieved of him more adamantly than she begged to receive him? why did his worth spill out with his drawn blood? why was his pain lesser than hers?

his hand flexes, digging into the raised scar like it’ll part beneath his fingertips to plunge into his mangled insides. no one knows the cruelty of reforming the halved; his name, his being, not nearly as important as his body when he was stripped from himself. no one knows the pain of healing and understanding losing pieces of yourself means losing your value along with them.

how many more pieces did he have to lose before he was halved once more? before his very presence incurred grief so strong it was better to be rid of him than cradle his bloodied remains?

did the infant fight himself? did he age always at odds with himself; his halves never truly whole? he hopes he wasn’t, that he was spared the loss of self; the fear that one may be welcomed over the other.

who will he lose when the inevitable comes? when he’s ripped apart again? simon? or ghost? is it better to be cursed with choice just like his mother or live with an aftermath chosen for him? does it matter if in the end, he convinces himself there was nothing of him left to lose?

his head lolls to the side and the wild buck of his chest slows. he watches johnny beside him, his face lax with the rare peace of sleep; his cheek squished against the pillow, his lips pursed as long breaths escape him.

johnny. soap. never torn asunder but two all the same.

he carefully reaches out and ghosts his fingers along the jagged scar on his chin. even in sleep, he presses into his bloodied touch. he’s never fled his half-flesh, never shies away from his gore as it spills unbidden from his cleaved torso. he holds on where his mother let him go; cups his stomach to hold his insides in place and never minds the blood that drips through his fingers.

simon will never let him become his own solomon and cannibalise himself. he will never let him question which half of him has more value; which pieces he can afford to lose before he’s cast aside.

ghost’s soap. simon’s johnny. his.

whole, in any incarnation.

[vaguely-concerned]

shathann fucked up in so many ways with raising taash but she also makes me. so so SO sad. welcome back deeply flawed dragon age mother figures in various shades of 'well. I mean you tried. I guess' (from 'not at all' to 'I can see what you thought you were going for at least' as appropriate) we tango once more

[chloecherrysip]

We're going to save your brother.

[jorvikzelda]

i, chronic migraine sufferer, when i dont have a migraine for a couple days will go. wow i think i am fixed now and will never have a migraine again :) and then i get a migraine and i go >:O however could this happen to me!!! nobody could see this coming!! least of all me!!

[benoitblanc]

it's been two days. still thinking about elegy

[wat-zu]

Absolutely love your art. I want to nom it.

Also, Hollow Heads Siblings my beloveds,,,

Theyre the doomed siblings ever its not even funny

[bibleofficial]

i literally have the pigeon corpse in my freezer

[sriya-lenka]

proud of louis always and forever

[damianosismyking]

truth is SOME BITCHES OUT THERE are boring as fuck.

I miss the old days when we were all fucked in the head and down for whatever novelty take/approach we had to these characters in this DARK FANTASY trilogy we adore.

not..... you know. who is the nicest character doing the nicest things in the nicest way.

[lilowoof]

Time to be whimsical on a sunday night.

But I've been thinking about my upcoming bday (mainly what I wanna do for it/where to eat lmao). But something else that has been on my mind is that in a few years I will be entering my 30s. And I am strangely excited for it??

The mid to late 20's have been really hard on me and honestly, I wasn't expecting to still be around to ever reach my 30s. But here I am! I finished my main schooling!!! And while I am suffering with some sort of mental boo boos, I am slowly learning more about myself and slowly trying to let go of all the past demons. It's taking time but eventually I will be ok again.

I have the power to get out there to meet new ppl, and ppl who are around the same cycle of life as I am. And it's exciting to think about! While I would love to devote most of my time to salmon running, I've lately come to realize that I wanna put my time more into my life on top of that. Meet someone who I can actually connect and grow with. Where I can still salmon run and game but also experience more in the life ahead of me! (and perhaps some couple gaming? I've always liked that in past relationships hehhe)

Do I wanna get married? IDK! But damn do I want to get proposed to. And I wanna go to more events in the city!!! And more P!nk concerts (tho it's getting to be a bit too expensive now hahah...)

LIKE. Life ain't perfect and I am anticipating some hard upcoming struggles. I am still dealing with financial abuse and repairing my savings after those issues. BUT LIKE. LIFE is still going, and I can try my best to make it the best it can be!!!!

[anthromimicry]

oh, but imagining the potential for warmth and also perhaps some humor in the scenario that misao decides she wants to try to cook something for someone she loves while they're over is currently making my heart happy. like i'm not going to lie — misao has honestly not cooked a day in her life since she just simply never had the need to, being a jorōgumo and all, but she would want to at least try to show she cares for them by attempting to cook their favorite dish or something whenever they're over at her home. and this would still apply to her even if she ended up completely failing at it at first because one of misao's love languages is acts of service. thus, of course she would want to provide them with something as integral as food. but GAHHH, picturing it from misao's loved ones perspective is also equally as sweet to me, because them guiding her on what to do while reassuring her that it's okay? and them eventually just deciding to cook together because misao may or may not get overwhelmed by the fact that she has such little knowledge about what to do because she wants everything to be perfect is... idk. it can be either incredibly romantic, or make for a very wholesome platonic moment between her and another character, which i LOVE

[horrorfolk]

this will either end in like happily ever after marriage or the worst soul crushing devastating heartbreak of my entire life and I'm not prepared

[pepprs]

i need to give myself a haircut so bad but i don’t want to. just like i don’t want to do literally anything else i need to do

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[positivelybeastly]

All of my life I spent searching the words Of poets and saints and prophets and kings And now at the end all I know that I’ve learned Is that all that I know is I don’t know a thing So easy to close off Place the blame outside Hiding in my room at night So terrified All the things I could have been But I never had the nerve Life and love I don’t deserve So all right, all right I’ve had my time Close my eyes Let the death bells chime Bury me in burgundy I just don’t care Nothing’s left I looked everywhere Is this how I die? Was there ever any other way my life could be? Is this how I die? Such a storm of feelings inside of me? But then why am I screaming? Why am I shaking? Oh God, was there something that I missed? Did I squander my divinity? Was happiness within me the whole time?