I am an offspring of the moon, my umbilical cord still hangs with her. The stars are my siblings as they watched over me, illuminating my very existence. This, in all angles, forms and meanings, is not a declaration of betrayal nor a change of heart towards my earthly family. I adore them. Every memory will forever be engraved in my heart and soul, while moments yet to be written will be treasured beyond my mortal coil. Nevertheless, being subjected to the lunar and the nocturnal elements present a different experience altogether. Do not fret if comprehension of all these eludes you this point in time, it happened to me. You will have yours, as those darklings are not fond in sealing their lips to tell those tales. You will see and eventually hear, exercise your patience, it is a long way to go.
My childhood was not as blissful and innocent as most of you have probably had. Not in a manner that I became a tool of perverts, silly. Just different. I cannot find the exact word to describe what it was like. It was not forgettable yet given a chance, perhaps I will take a different route. So, different will suffice. Having a remorse is out of the question though. Ah, yes, fear—fear played a huge role in my early formative years. It haunted me like a ghost and it wrapped its hand on my shoulders like a friend at the same time. I was able to gain primordial strength through that weakness and for that I have Phobos to thank. Tons of thoughts flooded my mind during those days, an occurrence deviating from the default stage of simply enjoying the wild, ecstatic unawareness of being a child. Somehow, the mind was my sacred playground. This, in a way, was the beginning of going back and forth from actuality to the imagined. Do not pretend you mad hatters, losing worldly sanity from time to time is heavenly.
You can call me anything, call me names or categorize me and it will not matter at all for I wear my wounds and scars with pride. I am the nothingness that fills my everything. Truly, I am no one, a speck of dust that you could always ignore that on certain episodes, brings forth tears for reason not accounted for. It is an irreversible fact that our eyes do not see everything. They can even deceive you at times, so forget about achieving 20/20 again.
Breathing fascinates me, with the same intensity that of what the concept of discontinuing it brings me. Necropolis, yes, those boneyards and memorial parks, has a special place in my heart. When everything seems to crumble around me, those places offer unworldly serenity, the air surrounding them sets the mood even only in its gates, bringing forth inescapable tranquility that no other place in this world could ever provide me. Unnatural, I know, but that is how it made me feel, the lifelessness in there reminded me that I am still alive. Talk about inspiration to carry on, that is one.
For a very long spell, I roamed and wore different masks, adapting but not living, merely floating and existing. So I paid tribute to the unseen for that is where loveliness truly lies, giving me more than enough reason to shut my eyes as often as possible. As kindred people would say and agree, beauty has its darkness and darkness has its beauty. I have seen a different light through its own absence. But I am not special, nor I am greater than anyone else, nor a righteous bastard. In the same context, I am ME, just deal with it. I must say that this is not to be taken with impunity in mind, you cannot uncage yourself from my punishment when the time comes, so be very prepared.
Eccentricity embellished my being, I always try not to have norms for I believe that it is very limiting, to ascension and growth. I will never be someone that I am not. Due to the fact that I am sharing this three-dimensional plane with you and a billion others, I have set my limitations in terms of self-revelation for I give respect even to those as stupid as I am and to those undeserving, on second thought, perhaps I might retract it from the latter.
My apathy is a fortress, a shield that protects me from the fangs of the world, the venom of reality. I continue to wear a mask every day, taking it off only when I am tired of hiding. Therefore, even if you thought that you have known me for a lifetime, there is a far greater possibility that you have actually not, if I hid behind the mask and continue to conceal my real self before you, that is. My revelation lies only in my hands, not with time. I only spread my disease to those who are willing to transcend it.
Music is a ritual that burns inside me, a vessel that transports me to somewhere new, somewhere unknown yet I belong. It is one of my very first friend and one of my makers, I can be completely nude (not that one, you perv!) and be myself without the mask and prejudice. With a guitar in my hands, I would still be standing even when stripped off all wealth and treasure in terms of money and assets. With its absence though, I am a fish out of water. Music is our link to the heavens and beyond, so repent, sinners. Oh yes, I almost forgot, there is also something called bad music, you be the judge. You must hone your awareness.
I always believe that the mind is a time machine in reality. We just have to acquire sufficient knowledge in order to expand and make our time library extensive. Aside from actual experiences, books and reading are great tools in developing such. Do not hesitate, open those dusty covers and read. The fire in our memories is bound to subside but we can re-fuel and arouse it with these potent tools. The more substantial the library will be, the more we could maximize the potential of the time machine. Physical or otherwise, build it up, Doc.
Ah, Dionysus/Bacchus, this deity is highly influential, consciously or inadvertent. Some would deny, but I am an inclined captive. It brings about the best (and the worst) of my thoughts. It seems to amplify the pineal gland. I see, hear, and think of things that most likely be blown extremely in perspective compared to moments that I am untouched by the hand of Dionysus. It is not easy but I got used to it, has its own pros as well. No to addiction but give in to experimentation, alak pa!
While I might have written a mouthful here, this is still a glimpse, just a tip of the iceberg so to speak. We are all artists in different medium, so I am proclaiming my liberty and consider myself one. I spiked myself with a twisted sense of humor not for the faint of heart, so be my guest and go throw your futile judgement. Anathemas are very much welcome, feed me. I bite, a lot.
For those who believe that pictures paint a thousand words, below is your chance to make a novel.
Credit to Dearie Dors for the images. I love you!
