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 Posted: Tue Aug 30, 2005 8:19 pm
The adult type comes in and speaks to me for at least an hour every day, after lunch. When he isn't criticizing me, he has rather interesting things to say. I've noticed how pointy his teeth are, the kind on cats and dogs, very pointy pointy. I like them, as I like needles, and I like knives, they are pointy. My ears now, are pointy, though they still have the stitches holding the skin together. I fear if I take out the threads, the ears will become round, and I will not be able to see further anymore.
My hair cannot cover the ears, they point through the hair and stick up. My hair falls about my arms and shoulders, gets in my mouth often, but I do not care. The gauntlets on my hands are heavy, they cut the skin through the bandages, but I do not care.
The red haired one and the orange haired one have been kind recently. Other than coming in and just talking, talking, talking, they bring things in for me to wear. Thankfully better clothes than the others before them. Faulds are protection for legs, attached by a belt, they hang over thighs to mid shin, but is open in the front, so legs can move. They still try for me to wear shorts, and for lack of better leg covers, and the cold air, I wear them. Still long shorts, cut to end mid shin, like faulds, over boots. I do not know why now they shower me with things, I rather make them on my own, but bedsheets are for sleeping, not clothing.
The fog has steadily been clearing. This is odd, as the weather has become more cold and sour. But, the clouds hang high in the air, not low on the ground. Perhaps the clouds in the sky, and pulling the ground clouds up with them, to cover the entire sky. As far as can be seen, the sky is a mix of light and dark greys. Sometimes, the sun breaks through, but it is almost instantly swallowed again.
That, I think, is how the fog has kept me alone for so long. Every time I break free, I am soon swallowed again. It gets so hard to see.
But, although for the most part, I am happy, I wish they would allow me to find my twin again. Though when I think very hard, I can see him in the back of my mind, I ache from lonliness. If not him, someone else, at least. The same faces day after day produces a madness from the monotony. At least the forge workers are different, day by day though even they become less people, and more grey smudges with faces. The soot and ash from the fires land all over everything, it becomes grey. I've stuck my thumb in it more than once, and smeared the soot over my eyes, around the socket, although it looks as though I have been bruised. It washes off soon enough.
Sitting in silence, the loud cracking sound from the man in the hallway becomes quiet, fading away completely. Has he fallen asleep? The ragged old man with the ham bone he gnaws, then smacks his bone against the floor, and gnaws again? He'd been chewing it far too long for it to hold any meat. But, without his bone, he would not be the ragged old man anymore. It is part of who he is, just the same way that...that Samsara is part of me.
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Posted: Tue Sep 27, 2005 9:36 pm
A while ago, longer than I can really remember when, not too long ago, but a while ago, I was sleeping. The need for noting does not come from the fact I was sleeping, but my dream. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, and think very very hard about my encounter with my better half, I can see him, in the back of my mind, I can see what he is doing. When I sleep, flashes of him come into my mind, sometimes so vivid, I could almost reach out and stroke my hand along his dark skin, or entwine my fingers in his hair, but of course, I am only dreaming.
While I was asleep, I saw him, but not as I normally see him. What I mean is, he wasn't alone. Another was with him, the anemic type, the draining type, a vampire. All sensual and serpentine and leech like. They were not doing what people do when in plain sight of others, and most certainly not hunting, as they were before.
They were lovers.
Entwined within one another, the air buzzed red with passion and heat and lust, a rolling red smoke, and hated. Why? Because though I've seen my brother only twice, I've always had the notion that he was mine, mine, mine! I wanted to be the one in his arms, entwining MY fingers in his hair, giving MY energy to his deeds. I thrust my hand out and struck the image, watching it shatter like glass and fall about me, red shards glittering on the floor.
Starting awake, I was greeted to a sick sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, and red shards, glittering around me on the floor. In my fury, I had struck the lamp on my bed, and without my guantlets, cut up my hand. I grabbed my pillow and yelled Samsara's name into it, over and over and over again, knowing he could hear me, remember me.
The adult type heard my yelling, and though he sighed at the breaking of the lamp, did not start on a tirade. He bandaged my hand again, and cleaned up the mess without complaint, which I was thankful for. I just might have struck him too, if he had annoyed me enough.
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Posted: Fri Sep 30, 2005 12:00 am
Somebody said once that reality was a lie
a trick begun at birth that ends when you die.
How can you percieve what is real and true,
how do you know that fire is hot and the sky is blue?
What exactly do you mean, someone inquired
is it so deep a degree in philosophy is required?
Maybe flowers don't smell, and the grass isn't green,
do we just need to adjust the tracking on our TV screen?
It's not as simple as that, the first person said
how can you tell there are soft sheets on your bed?
You can feel the sheets, the texture against your skin
the second answered, confident they would win.
Sensation is just chemicals, fired along nerves
forgive me for saying, I don't mean to perturb
but everything we can see, everything we know
from the winking of the sun, to the pristine snow
are just chemicals leaking through the brain
molecules lesser than the smallest drop of rain.
How can you prove what is real and what is not?
this is for many years the answer I have sought
We both percieve things in much the same way
listen now, listen to what I'm going to say
If I say that I can tell the ocean is blue
you can only agree what I say is true.
By our being two seperate beings agreeing
that the truth must be what we both are seeing.
Our brains are different slightly, yours and mine
yours perhaps is lying, but mine is fine.
Reality is altered by drugs hippies call groovy,
was this all started by that dumb Matrix movie?
Don't you know hollywood movies are just fiction?
I'm rather getting tired of my choice of diction.
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Posted: Tue Oct 11, 2005 7:11 pm
I have found a burst of red to fill the void I have found. His name is Makenna, or so he has told me, and he's the only friend I've got. Friend...? Have I ever truly known the meaning of the word? I've got guardian, sibling, master and diety, but never before mine own equal, my friend.
And yet somehow I frighten myself when I am around him. Every inch of his skin makes me want to reach out and touch it, I want to own him. I want to kiss away his fears, his uncertainty, and trail my tongue down that flash of molten red that runs down his body...I want him to be mine and mine alone.
...But that is what frightens me. Such violent passion has only thrice been erupted before, and never because I wanted it to.
My twin is another halting force in my mind. Though over the past few days Samsara's presence has faded from all but a dark whisper in my dreams, I know still his vengence is not worth Makenna's life. I'd warn him but...But I cannot speak still. I know the words, the order, the tone of my voice, but my lips remain sealed, my breath a simple whisper.
Incompetance, my own incompetance makes me want to snap and growl at anything that shoots a look my way, but that is innefective. I know now the adult one and the red haired ones are looking for me, and my remaining wish is they do not search here, they do not find my refuge, my sanctuary. If they discover this place, never again will it be safe.
Watching him now, he's asleep. I know this, because I've been watching over him for a few hours now. He haunts me now too, but not in a bad way. His eyes shift under his eyelids, his breath hitches a little, and I wonder, what thoughts, what dreams run through his head now?
From outside a leaf blows in and lands on my knee. Lifting it up, it easily crumbles under my gauntlets. The weather will turn sour, soon, the little treehouse as it stands will be unlivable in winter. We'll need to insulate it.
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Posted: Fri Nov 18, 2005 12:02 am
It's such a bizarre sensation I can hardly describe it. For a long time, I felt as though I were caught, stuck in a haze where time did not exist, and I was left behind, slogging through molasses as everyone zipped around ahead of me, like watching a tape on fast forward. I was frightened.
But then, something just changed. I could see everything clearer than I could ever recall before, as though someone switched on a fan, and blew all the fog away. I was left eyes wide open, staring down at the boy who for all I knew, had saved my life. He was so...so...so small!
Standing up now, I tower over him, much larger than I remember being. It feels odd to stand, kind of dizzy, like I had been sitting down for too long, the blood rush that makes you black out. What is worse, I could feel...
I could feel a malice I had not known existed before. Looking down at the boy in my arms, I felt the need to do things to him, make him feel things. He was trapped as I was, and I wanted to free him.
I had to get out, and as I donned my armor yet again, I could feel my lips twitch into a wry grin, so unlike me! Dropping from the treehouse, I felt solid, my incoporeal childhood melting away faster than a block of dry ice in an oven. The uncertainty, the pensive waiting, it was gone. I felt alive!
What a sensation it was! For the first time, having the link up between my brain and my body, knowing how exactly to manipulate the faculties of my body! I ran through the woods like a loosed beast, the burn in my lungs and the pain in my legs a reminder of how ALIVE I was. Paradise at last...!
Opening my eyes again, I realized I had not moved at all, and was clutching Makenna like he was the only thing between my sanity and the ever present tumbling into madness. If I wasn't careful, I'd break the one I held most dear. He was the one I held more precious than my own soul. I'd kill anyone who'd try to lay an ill faring hand on his unblemished skin. I'd make them feel my redemption, how unmerciful my justice is...
I pray that day will never come, for whomever should incur my wrath.
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Posted: Mon Dec 26, 2005 8:26 pm
What is christmas?
Is it a time to celebrate family and friends? Is it a hallmarked holiday for mass consumerism?
I would like to believe the former, but from the throngs of malicious shoppers swarming the mall like plastic flies, it is obvious what everyone else thinks.
Christmas spirit, an obese man who cannot understand the importance of a razor...what have these things to do with togetherness? And the slaughter of trees?
I do not understand.
A lady with an armfull of clothes in bags from 'Sap' took one look at me, and stooped down. Her eyes were tired, but resentful, a stained grey that showed the tainted nature of her soul, like a layer of dirt smoke leaves on everything.
"Little girl." She began, strike one,
"Santa is over there." She pointed to the fat man who was sitting with children weeping in his lap. He had an erection barely hidden by the white fluff on his pants.
"His elves should be beside him."
Did she think me a toy making migit slave? What elf wears armor anyway? I told her so, and she stood up, looking haughty-
"Well, it's late for halloween, then."
The woman's blood was regretfully one of the perpetuated colors of the holiday season, though the flowers of red that sprouted along her barely concealing white blouse were very lovely.
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Posted: Tue Feb 21, 2006 12:31 am
Last night the fog returned. I should have known better than to think that it was gone for good. That stuff pervades my mind more thickly than cheese in a fondue. Otherwise it was an ordinary evening, spent out gathering provisions, and returning to my obsidian. Before we went to bed however, on the air mattress obsidian procured, I got an uneasy feeling in my chest, and the fog began to drift along the floor. It came in through the windows, and drifted over the furniture, and spilled free from the doorway into the porch and through the trap door to the forest floor below.
Dreams of mating with obsidian come to me some nights. I've sometimes been afraid of violating him while we slept, but so far, nothing has happened detrimentally between us. It's not every night, nor did it come last night, but more often now.
Recently during my forays through the forest, it occured to me I might be able to procure what people use as currency to help refurnish the house. Not by illegal means, no, but the sooty inhabitants of the forge surely do not subsist on charred metals and coal. They spend night and day fashioning things, metal things, things like silverwear and jewlery and fences and gates and metal bars and parts for automobiles and great works of art that are bought by the city for public display.
If I could work into that niche, I could sell things made too, and use the money for obsidian and I, rather than relying on the packs of provisions I obtain from the orange haired one's dwelling. So, every now and again I've ventured to the forge alone and have been making what the others have asked of me, in return for a fairly large wad of green papers. The paper itself is meaningless to me, and I can hardly understand how paper can equal in worth to a masterfully produced set of diningware.
Yesterday though, when I handed the clip thick with green papers to Makenna, he lit up. He expressed some interest in going to school to get a credible job, perhaps to obtain more green paper. I think I mentioned that anything was alright with me, as long as he wouldn't be gone for long. He promised he wouldn't, and we went to bed.
My dreams were startlingly familiar. It was almost as if the madness had merely departed on vacation and had decided to return.
I recall sitting up in bed, seeing nothing within the house but the vague outlines of the walls and windows. The masses of fog rolled around the floor like a white ocean about the bed. Looking up, a thick dark cloud of smoke clung tenaciously and ominously to the ceiling, a near mirror image of the white haze over the floor.
I could hear rattling.
Chains.
Emerging from midair on the balcony I could see the figure of a tall person. Actually, it was around my height, where Makenna still was shorter, but more slender than I. Long black strands fractured the white background like cracks in bathroom tiles, and the figure kept approaching, emerging from the cloud as dark as pitch.
Slitted eyes opened, revealing startling white eyes with irises that burned emerald, ignited neon green eyes. Samsara's eyes.
He was nude save for a sheet of chainmail which was draped over his body and clinked with his movements. He approached me on the bed, and I frantically looked to the side where obsidian slept.
I was alone.
Samsara stalked forward, and when he stood before the bed, the sheet fell to the floor, and he turned to come beside me. I could not move, I was drawn to him with a familiar ferocity I had not known for a long time. His eyelids lowered as he looked to mine,
"And now we finish what was started long ago and too long neglected."
A dark hand reached down and under the blanket and grasped me, and I realized with terror I too was nude, bared scars and markings and all save for my curtain of hair and the blanket.
The rest was a haze, frightening both in moments of clarity and for the fact that the why's and the how's were completely unknown.
I was stretched below him, his hair and mine coming together and tickling our bodies as Samsara preformed the rite he sought to since our wretched births.
His voice was right beside my ear, his breath along my neck, his hands over my tattered body and himself buried within me. He whispered the final verse and the world exploded in a flash of red. When it faded, nothing remained.
I awoke to the darkness and a sight of my brother I hadn't seen for a long time. Despondant and alone, the tainted beast he consorted with had finally departed for good, and he was left even less than he was before, a broken youth who'd tried to end himself and failed and was left with nothing.
He may be without morals, and into the dark arts who had killed many, but he and I were kindred, and to see him hurt hurt me. I had to find him, but prayed our meeting would not conclude in ruin.
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Posted: Wed Mar 01, 2006 10:04 pm
Obsidian and I spoke last night on his recent decline in health. It was revealed to me he was being hurt at this school he started attending. I can hardly remember a time I was so angry. Obsidian had become as much to me as life, as he was the one there when the place I had come from was gone. After it, I had little. The adult type has a house, but knows little.
He tried to keep me from his tormentors. He said he'd leave school and eat and sleep again, but school is important to obsidian, so it was not relented. If I cannot chase away his dreams, and bring him hunger again, I can at least prevent more bruises from purpling his skin.
My love and I are apart from one another for a good section of the day. After he leaves for school, what we do is usually secret from one another. This day, from a distance, I finally learned what my love does with his day.
The trouble started from the moment he set foot on the grounds. Several bigger ones were waiting for him, and almost laughed when he showed up.
Hell is watching your beloved hurt.
I could not interfere, Obsidian was not to know I was with him. But I'd almost torn apart the tree I was concealed in to keep from slaughtering every one who had dared touch him.
Death would be too swift and end for them.
As they pushed Obsidian back and forth, a teacher approached, and they acted all buddy buddy, as though nothing was happening, and even my love himself said nothing of the pain he endured for them. With a last punch, the one determined to be the leader walked off to presumably go to class.
He never made it.
The hand that touched my love made such a delightful wet crunch as I rendered it hereinafter too weak to harm another again.
He never knew who I was, I caught him from behind and held his throat tight so he couldn't scream for help.
An ultimatum was presented, to never again touch Makenna, or to never again touch anything at all save steel when I vivisected him.
I released his throat but as he tried to scream, I quickly cinched it again. No help for the undeserving.
When he succumbed to air loss, I let his body slide to the ground and left.
I'd follow Makenna again and deal with the other fools if his tormenting did not end.
I'd find out later I'd crushed his folly confidence as easily as his hand, and without a punching arm, he'd never be able to pick on anyone again. Fear is an easy thing to produce, and more difficult than a bloodstain to remove again. The others who had relied on him for that extra edge restricted their bullying to ostracation and glares. To this day he maintains his injury was from a skateboarding mishap. He knows damn well if he dared touch my love again, the repurcussions would be far more dire than a 'skateboarding' injury.
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Posted: Mon Apr 03, 2006 10:43 pm
Time passes in the evenings so slowly at times I wonder if i'm just bored out of my skull, or if time really has decided to make all clocks tick slower, and all heart beats decend in rate, and the even everquick blink become like the tectonic plates in the earth. Times like this, I don't even want to think. It becomes a task to continue to stir the murky slime of thought when things become this heavy.
I thought for a while I had to be getting sick.
But I really have been sick all along, haven't I?
Raising my hand before my face it occurs to me there must be something seriously, seriously wrong with my head. I've picked rings of skin off my fingers, turned off the numbing sensation of piecing together link after link of chainmail, detatched from my body like a ghost.
That kind of thinking can't be normal, can it?
My thoughts return to that of the shadow mirror of myself. I never found out what he had been up to, and I can feel the link between us weaken.
Do I want that to happen?
There was such comfort in knowing someone stronger than you knew what you were up to, and could see you, feel your thoughts and emotions and know alongside you what it was. Without that everpresence in my mind, I'm feeling truly alone.
But why?
Obsidian keeps my company night and day, and his kisses pool the energy within myself, but not the way Samsara does.
Never the way he does.
The energy piles inside of me, making me restless, searching for a release, someone to give it to, someone who can take and use and need it.
Need me.
Makenna doesn't need me. He didn't need my crushing the hands of those who hurt him, he doesn't need my restless company, my silence. I know he doesn't. I want to feel needed.
Weight drags at my eyelids and a heavy breath works its way free. Fingers grasp for the body that I know is not there.
When it matters, it's never there. As sleep begins to fuzz in, the brief clairvoyance of thought leaves, as the fog comes rolling in again.
...Will the mists finally clear for good?
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Posted: Thu May 04, 2006 11:00 pm
Under Obsidian's care, I have found my body to have increased many fold in productivity. I grow taller, more muscular, and need to fit out more armor to fit my frame. I am fond of the armor I wear now, it is silver, not black iron, and it shines slightly blue. Looking at the sheen on my chestplate, I saw myself reflected back, and wondered how long I had these marks on my face. Neither scar nor tattoo, they are merely marks, like those on my arm, like those on my other.
It seems like eternity since I last saw him. Saw him not inside my own head, but outside, with flesh of skin and sin. With burns and scars anew, I wonder how he's been. I wonder where he is. Does he find comfort among throngs of like minded bipeds? Has he somehow gotten people to forget his skin mirrors the blackness in his heart, and lives among them? I could never do so. Eyes probe more than they tend to think, they feel like grubby children's fingers on my shift, pawing at the bloodied marks, asking where I hid the food, begging for some that didn't smell of vodka, or water.
The cracks in the ceramic tiles.
The cement between the cracks.
Flecks of stone bits in the fingers as hands scrabble across to find purchase as needles go in, needles go out. Needles jabbed in places that make children shout.
Officials and people swaddled in starched white tinged grey by the filth they call minds grab the sin itself, clenching it with delighted smiles as frightened squeals stoke the flames they have inside. They had control, they wanted to tap the power wells inside us. Draw it out for themselves.
No one can do that to me anymore.
I'm not weak. Drugs don't make muscles flaccid, minds placid anymore. The only burning in our throats comes from the howling screaches we release into the air, our own voluntary releases. Clefts and fissures are rendered into the soft earth as claws pound in as deeply as they would through flesh. Muscles twitch and pull, rending the soil from itself. Terror, panic, rage, madness. Yelling again and again. Feeble fingers tiny digits couldn't rend the coats of them like they can now. Hair spilling over shoulders, heaving shoulders no longer used as a device to pull, hold in place. Fatigue.
Where every motion feels like swimming through cement. Though it is hard to force movement in muscles, they pull and clench of their own accord.
Why does my mind hover just above me?
Why can't I pull it down inside myself and stop this?
I reach up toward where I see myself but instead detect darkness. The sun has set, night has fallen. I can't remember what I left the house to do today.
Sitting up, I realize i'm covered in soil. I must have spent the day on the ground. I'm glad Makenna didn't see this. I'd kept the memories at bay for such a long time. It's sort of embarressing but I don't think Obsidian ever observed a lapse like this. I need to bathe and return before he starts to worry. It is my only hope it does not return.
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Posted: Sun Jun 04, 2006 10:51 pm
words of Warning It has been over a month since your last post.
This is not acceptable.
You have 3 days to make a post up to my standards, or A'Hallei will be taken away from you.
This Warning and its Requirements are Not Negotionable
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Posted: Tue Jun 06, 2006 11:42 pm
I wouldn't trade the life I have now for anything in the world. Nothing seems appealing to me in thought. Imagining a life outside of the forest, stuck within the confines of a city or mall multiplex almost causes pain. I needed some polishing fluid and lubricant for my armor, and had to venture into a strip mall to find the materials I needed. It wasn't too crowded, but the tension in the air as people try to pretend they don't hate is palpable.
A large man brushed my shoulder as I walked into the hardware store, he was walking too close to me, and I was not going to stop and turn to let him by. The doors were wide enough for three.
Three spikes grazed the sleeve of his shirt, leaving three horisontal tears in cheap polo material. His skin wasn't shorn-- lucky him. He turns and shouts indignantly, and glares at me, yelling incomprehensibly. Somehow his stupid mistake was my fault-- because i'm a freak and scapegoat. I spared a moment to look his way-- acknowliging his foolishness, but did not answer his accusations. No more ammunition for the s**t cannon that was his mouth.
Did he honestly expect an apology? I don't need to justify to him what I wear, or make amends for his error. It would have been excuseable if he hadn't made such a fuss, but the way his face reddened the longer I stood there and stared as he shouted...I had the urge to strike him. Suddenly, the buzz in the background stopped and I realized with mortification I had been strangling him. My claws closed around his throat, and he had been subdued to the floor- suprising considering he towered over me a moment before.
His reddening face was from lack of oxygen, and the blood pooling in his skull with no escape. I let go, and a quick glance prooved no one had paid witness to what I had done.
Needless to say, I didn't buy what I originally left my haven for, and I'm in no mood to return. Populated areas are no places for people like me. People like us...
Not unless we can be fixed.
I briefly wonder if there is some gear that had fallen out of place in my head, if some switch that was supposed to be flipped on was left untouched.
A disturbing thought haunts me as I stare out of the balcony of our house. What would Makenna think if he knew...?
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Posted: Tue Jun 20, 2006 11:40 pm
I am sick. Well and truly.
Obsidian has been long from our house together in the trees, long since I have seen his face, the stripe of passion that curls down his flesh, or the smolder in those dark, dark eyes. For a while I thought I could handle his absence, but with each and every passing day my anguish grows.
But why don't I seek him out?
Fear coils in the pit of my stomach like a viper, slumbering until I try to put my feet to the floor and move to where I know my obsidian is. It tightens. My legs go numb like they have fallen asleep and I tumble to the floor every time. I have learned to just ignore the serpant and forget why he lives in my stomach. Egg eating vipers.
Illness, rasping and hacking poisons of the mind.
It is raining today, has been since yesterday. Summer storms or some such, nothing really to worry about. The roof has a leak, but I don't care to fix it. He isn't around to notice, so it's not important. I can hear chains now, when I'm still. It clinks in the background like when a ship comes to dock, and the rocking waves makes the giant chains grind and shake. Groaning woods, creaking and shaking. It smells like oak trees and salt, smells faintly like bleach to banish the lichens and the molds that have invaded the woods.
The ground is swaying. Not from the wind in the trees, but from the ocean.
And when you hold her to your ear, you can hear her scream.
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Posted: Mon Jul 03, 2006 2:38 am
Obsidian left a note for me today. I hadn't even noticed he'd come by, I probably dropped off in front of the balcony, lost in my thoughts. He had the kindness to take one of the blankets from the cots we pushed together and draped it over my shoulders to keep me warm. The blankets still smell of him, and when I woke, my nose was buried in the folds and as I inhaled for a moment I believed he was there once again beside me. The note was placed simply in my upturned hand, the paper just as white as the skin beneath him. It was done in simple hand in a red gel pen.
We have to talk.
That's all it said, but it was all that needed to be said. Realizations came crashing down around me. I was being left behind. Makenna was a normal teenaged boy now, he didn't need me looming around like a dejected poltergeist, preventing him from having the most normal life he could.
I will be alone again.
The thought that Obsidian would leave me forever caused violent shivers to run down my body, and I cannot remember ever being so scared. The presences within my mind I had kept a tight grip upon had slipped free, leaving me to my own torments. It's a recurring pattern, I should be used to it by now, but Obsidian means much more to me than the whispers in the silence.
I don't even think buying the cabin now will change anything. I saved the money for it, blindly collecting numbered papers with the assumption that when the time came, Obsidian and I would decend below to the forest floor, to live in an actual well built house without leaks in the roof, plumbing and electricity. There we would stay until happily ever after. Despite the terribly tacky wording, there is a palpable desire.
I want to be good to him.
The paper makes a weak protest as my hands clasp the frail sheet and crush. We need to talk indeed.
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Posted: Wed Jul 12, 2006 3:41 am
It is over. The one who I never imagined being without has crushed my trust like an insect underfoot- and he does not regret what he had done to me, nor does he even seem to understand what he did himself.
I feel so foolish, angered, jealous, frustrated, confused and embaressed all at the same time. A cacophany of voices and emotions rioting and clambering until I do not know what to do except scream, and scream, and beat my fists against the walls to release this pent up pain.
But, in the absence of his presence, it was not wholly unlike when he was gone before, doing who knew what with who knew who. Orion, blue hair. I don't blame him at all, but I pity him a little, I hope he finds out the truth, and makes his own decisions.
Used.
Betrayed.
Is this how my brother felt? I remember this feeling though distanced, as I felt it through him and not myself. I suppose I had been too harsh to him, assuming what Makenna and I had was infinately superior to what he and the vampire shared. Perhaps he and I were not so opposite as I originally wanted to believe.
Going back to him now with my tail tucked between my legs whimpering would be useless. Samsara has every right to laugh in my face. He was right, he was completely correct, but it meant thinking ill on my Makenna, so I would rather strike him than ever believe his words.
Useless.
I could not bear to stay in the treehouse any further, the memories and energies lingering around tearing me far more to pieces than I could stand. I gathered up what supplies and things I brought to the house, my stashed money, and I departed, leaving Makenna to scavenge whatever was left that he wanted. I adored the treehouse-- and was sad to leave it, and that part of my life behind.
I was homeless again. Not exactly-- but I didn't want to move back in with the adult one...What was his name? He had orange hair. Perhaps getting to know him better would be a good idea-- present circumstances granting. What made me think HE would want me back? I waltzed out like Makenna waltzed out on me. At least I made no empty promises on my affections. I'm his stupid kid, right?
Stupid being the operative word here.
No...It wasn't my fault-- I wasn't the bad guy, and I wasn't going to let Makenna flip the facts around to cover the fact that he cheated on me, and I got mad. I could have killed him-- and for a while, I wanted to, but I wouldn't give into his requests for me to hurt him. Makenna never seemed to understand...
Musing on this will not help me find a home faster. The bare woods can be a refuge only for a few days.
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