argentlam

There is something good in being left on your own. Without the cacophony of voices you have the one and only possibility to hear the faintest of them all. Your own.
Of course that is only the case when your voice is quiet. I heard voices louder then thounder.
But mine is not one of them.
I think that's simply matter of lack of luck. In this particular case my famous golden gift somehow failed me and disaster that followed erased all the good that arouse from everything where it did actually work.
When you are young and you mind and view of the world are just starting to shape it is so easy to ruin things. I hope that ruinage is not irreversible. I have to work with something.
Now is the time when I'm standing and seeing things just didn't go as I intended and I'm at this point not much sure what was mine original intention.
I know there was something but through all this time and struggle I lost it from before my eyes. And there I landed misguided in place I didn't want to go and being someone I never wanted to be.
Still not the person I was expected to become and absolutely not my own creation.
For now I stand and look trying to recognize the original pieces. The ones that were always mine, not someone else's vision.
I had for time considered mimicry the best survival. I had copied everybody and I had fullfilled almost every expectation others had for me. Some of them where outright contradictiory.
And then they told me the disaster that came was my own creation and it is all my fault.
Actually it's not. It is a duty of those who raise you not to make harm to you. When they do it is not the fault of the person being hurt.
I, for myself, is no saint at all but at least I try to tread carefully. It is so easy to hurt the other person and it takes so little effort to just be careful.
I understand the ways and the sources of such behaviour. I know where they come from and I know why people do those things to other people. I do not accept them. I try not to do them myself.
Because it was done to me and I know how hard is later to undo things.
It would take time and I had my first strike of panic lately as the older mechanisms of selfdefence turned on against a event I'm planning to go to.
I would normally be said it is not safe to go there. The people are unreliable, they would not like me, they would do terrible things and I would look bad and stupid.
If I lived still with my parents for sure I would hear it a dozen of times. I would hear I have no right to act the way I want and I should conform to the rules. And the rules say: you are what we say you are. If that's not true see the point above and better change yourself quickly for any deviation (sic! the word) would not be tolerated.
But now I'm on my own. For the first time in quarter of a century I can truly do what I want.
The world is lighter and nicer than I was told for all those years. People are better. And there is less darkness and evil in all things on Earth.
I still have my battle to fight but for now I have to find my weapons.
The old way are not working. They weren't working for them and they do not work for me.
So I discard them without pity. And it is meaningless they'll think I'm stupid, selfish, unrealiable...
Maybe I am...
and maybe, just maybe it is them who are stupid, selfish and unreliable.

How it is to take on living after a disaster has happened? How to pick up old ways when you know there won't be any benefit from them? But there's too much of a cost in stopping.
How to built where only ashes are left. And the faint scent of great fire is still perceptable on the wind. How long it would take for another fire to come? Another war and struggle. I have taught myself well of being survivalist. Of being for the people but never of the people.
I know my duties.
I know where my alliances lie.
But now I stand on the pile of carcasm and ruins burnt to the ground. How to build when everything was destroyed? When you no longer know the way of constructing things. Your knowledge is limited to defiance and destruction. I know how to face danger. I fear no death.
What I fear is slow decay into nothingness, the unimportance and the mundane.
I know there is life in this ruins. I know that not everything has died, not all is lost and forgotten.
The wounds go deep but they will be healed. The ruins rebuild. And a new life, splendid life would start.
Shall live to that day? Shall I be able to see the dawn of this new world?
A better world. Certainly no paradise for all. But I need no paradise.
I have this sense of beauty in sadness. Many people don't.
They fear loss and change and struggle.
I cherish the change and the struggle even if I weep over loss.
There is something unspeakably beautiful in passing of all things on this Earth. But it is the way things are. All change, all end. The good and the bad, the nice and the ugly.
It is not that I cease to dream of happiness never ending and love eternal. Of all things in this world only love won't pass. At least I have hope for this.

I think the most people know who is Eek the Cat. To those who don't I strongly advise google.com.
I was browsing through one of my books on magic and witchcraft when I saw this picture.
A smiling cat on skateboard wearing sunglasses looking just like Eek. As the book was a translation to my native language the caption under the picture was also in Polish. So I'm terribly sorry but I cannot credit the author with the original name of this utility.
In Polish the meaning was roughly around fast forward. I stop to read the description and it made me wonder. People believe in so many useless and outright stupid things but they would instantly reject the belief of a FastForward Cat being beneficial in troubles with queques, traffic jams and so on.
It was clearly written in this chapter that a FastForward Cat is a invention of author of the book and his friends. Their way to solve the problem of stressing in the traffic jams and similar unpleasant situation. What they used is a simple psychological tool called personification which has been in use since the beginning of the human race.
I'm not the first trying to say how it works on reality but I would be pretty sure of it's effect on the people.
Human unconcious is a strange thing and I won't be so sure that the old ways are so stupid. And very often it's not the situation we need to change but ourselves. Then the psychological means come in handy. The indirect ways, the creative and visionary.
Is that silly or childish?
Perhaps. But as long as it works that's quite enough for me and I don't need scientific explanation (not that I won't be happy listening to one).
So pay respect to the FastForward Cat. You never know when you may need his help.

ps. The book I write about is " Condensed Chaos" by Phil Hine.

From the very beginning I feel like fighting nightmares with every breath of my lungs, with every day of my life. It is so difficult to cast away your old ways and go on with something that is actually yours. I was taught all my life that I do not matter. My thoughts and ideas are stupid, my joys and sorrows childish.
I'd be better off listening to someone wiser and more important. Someone who knows what is right for me better than I do. Someone who wishes me the best and if only I would surrender myself to his wisdom whole life would be simple and happy. And because I am stubborn and selfish know-it-all, only because of that I have any trouble.
I needed more than a quarter of century to get rid of this ideology. Yet it still lurks somewhere hindering, destructing and sabotaging my every creative thought.
It made my own thoughts go guerilla. Too many times I wage a war between myself and the image I try to put to the rest of the world.
Like I needed approval of the larger crowd to all my ideas and emotions.
I have been born with serious health problems. Maybe it's one of the roots of my problems. Maybe it's not.
Right now I don't even know what I want from life because every thought about it, every idea is blocked somewhere in the subconscious as dangerous and inappropriate. I had never any right to express my feelings because when I did it there was always someone to say they are stupid, dangerous and impossible.
When you're still small child you believe people. You believe in their words even if they are cruel, even if they are wrong.
So I learned not having my own thoughts and opinions. I mastered mimicry to the extent I could barely tell what is fact and what is fiction.
I got a reputation of liar extraordinaire and the royal jester.
I was everyone for everybody.
But then if you try guessing what people expect of you and if you are a person they want you to be, they start to think this is truth. But you deep in your heart know it's just another lie. Lies mount, the great tower of deception grows, and if you want to call a person a friend, you try to show them your real self.
This is when they go.
This is when they leave. People are not good at accepting something so totally different from what they were used. They cherish bits of images about other people. They have their own versions of their friends, children and lovers in their heads. And it disturbs them greatly to see that image untrue.
It is battle not so easily won to make my thoughts I produce to any public less obscured and unclear. I learned that art long time ago. Obscure thoughts does not carry information but they do not hurt people. They only hurt the owner.
As he is repeatedly misunderstood.
But now I have met a person who was not discouraged by my many attempts to divert and deceive her. She was not repelled by the truth I am. She was not angered with my repeated lying. And she stayed where others vanished...
So in return I started to show some truth.
This shadow can gain some flesh now.