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Yeah, time for one of these.
11 years ago
Man the rest of my journals suck. They reek of the insecurity and fear that one beset my life. I'm not entirely sure it doesn't yet still poison me, even as I write these words.
But no more. Now, I write it in a different light. Of reflection, and pondering, rather than angst and emotional turmoil.
For it is time.
It is time, for a philosophical pondering in between my promotion matches in League of Legends.
It is time, after I suddenly realize how much being calm actually works, and, actually calm. Not just upset, or sad, instead of angry. Genuine apathy. Control. Rest.
You see, for the longest time of my life I have been ruled by my emotions. I was borne with the spirit of a firestarter. A cheeky little blighter with a craving for conflict, I'd always recoil when the flames burnt me, but time and time again I'd taunt them.
Beneath it all, as I slowly grew to maturity one of life's big lessons I learned was, that my existence was temporary. No more than merely a speck of it, in the grand scheme of things.
A realization that struck me to the core. That I was not ready for.
That wounded me, for countless days to come.
In amidst the conflict of it all my higher mind grew tired of the conflict constantly provided by my school. I grew out of it, I ran away every other week, I got bullied outside of it, I played video games until I passed out in the early hours of the morning.
I even awoke, fully dressed, sitting up in my bed. I had no recollection of getting dressed, that my mother must've done so whilst I was barely conscious.
All to hide, to escape from the world, that I might be free of it's conflict and struggle.
Yet the further I drew to hide myself in the shell, the darker and less joyful it became.
I turned my own homes to a prison. I became a being of feral instinct, interested only in playing video games and, when introduced to it, surfing the internet. I'd been moved to my father's house after my mother suffered several panic attacks, and it provided me with the perfect shelter.
The perfect.. Prison. One I was comfortable in. The kind of prison I didn't want to leave. That I craved to hide in. My father was no better as he took the role of jailor, and squandered his allowance for my keeping on alcohol, nicotine and gambling. But that is a story I am tired of.
Throughout it all, and thankfully very near the beginning, I've had the support of an organization which I will not mention here. Rest assured, their interference in my life rests somewhere akin to a guardian angel.
It was not enough. But it kept me on the edge, as opposed to plummeting into the abyss, and helped me back onto the plateau whenever I tripped and fell.
More recently, I became entangled in the social affairs of furries in real life.
From that day onward, I have grew. I have matured. I have been happy. I have finally found my place in the world again
... But still the fears haunt me, when there is little else to distract me.
Alone, on my computer, or at night, when they come in place of the sleep that so alludes me.
Except.. It haunts me no longer.
I get the occasional flashes, here and there. The icy cold revelation of my mortality. Sinking it's fingers, like permafrost creeping into my heart and growing from within.
But.. I refused.
I fought back.
I. Refused.
Eventually, it receded. It visits me frequently, yes, but no longer does it steal the warmth from my heart, from my very spirit.
It empowers me. It makes me realize; that I'm not dead yet. I'm still alive.
Oh, the gentle rush of fear and adrenaline that courses through my veins every time I think that I might die, it only serves to make me feel stronger.
No longer cowering in the corner, no longer crying for attention. No longer living as though I may as well already be dead.
And thus I come to wonder.. For so long, have I truly been fearing it? Or.. Craving it's sweet release?
Have I truly feared the reaper, when I've never had to?
Does it fuel my madness, my anger, my fear, or does it only empower my sanity, my euphoria, my glory?
Maybe all of them, and maybe none of them.
There is however, one thing I could say with certainty
So head my words carefully;
The wolf will never fear the reaper again.
But no more. Now, I write it in a different light. Of reflection, and pondering, rather than angst and emotional turmoil.
For it is time.
It is time, for a philosophical pondering in between my promotion matches in League of Legends.
It is time, after I suddenly realize how much being calm actually works, and, actually calm. Not just upset, or sad, instead of angry. Genuine apathy. Control. Rest.
You see, for the longest time of my life I have been ruled by my emotions. I was borne with the spirit of a firestarter. A cheeky little blighter with a craving for conflict, I'd always recoil when the flames burnt me, but time and time again I'd taunt them.
Beneath it all, as I slowly grew to maturity one of life's big lessons I learned was, that my existence was temporary. No more than merely a speck of it, in the grand scheme of things.
A realization that struck me to the core. That I was not ready for.
That wounded me, for countless days to come.
In amidst the conflict of it all my higher mind grew tired of the conflict constantly provided by my school. I grew out of it, I ran away every other week, I got bullied outside of it, I played video games until I passed out in the early hours of the morning.
I even awoke, fully dressed, sitting up in my bed. I had no recollection of getting dressed, that my mother must've done so whilst I was barely conscious.
All to hide, to escape from the world, that I might be free of it's conflict and struggle.
Yet the further I drew to hide myself in the shell, the darker and less joyful it became.
I turned my own homes to a prison. I became a being of feral instinct, interested only in playing video games and, when introduced to it, surfing the internet. I'd been moved to my father's house after my mother suffered several panic attacks, and it provided me with the perfect shelter.
The perfect.. Prison. One I was comfortable in. The kind of prison I didn't want to leave. That I craved to hide in. My father was no better as he took the role of jailor, and squandered his allowance for my keeping on alcohol, nicotine and gambling. But that is a story I am tired of.
Throughout it all, and thankfully very near the beginning, I've had the support of an organization which I will not mention here. Rest assured, their interference in my life rests somewhere akin to a guardian angel.
It was not enough. But it kept me on the edge, as opposed to plummeting into the abyss, and helped me back onto the plateau whenever I tripped and fell.
More recently, I became entangled in the social affairs of furries in real life.
From that day onward, I have grew. I have matured. I have been happy. I have finally found my place in the world again
... But still the fears haunt me, when there is little else to distract me.
Alone, on my computer, or at night, when they come in place of the sleep that so alludes me.
Except.. It haunts me no longer.
I get the occasional flashes, here and there. The icy cold revelation of my mortality. Sinking it's fingers, like permafrost creeping into my heart and growing from within.
But.. I refused.
I fought back.
I. Refused.
Eventually, it receded. It visits me frequently, yes, but no longer does it steal the warmth from my heart, from my very spirit.
It empowers me. It makes me realize; that I'm not dead yet. I'm still alive.
Oh, the gentle rush of fear and adrenaline that courses through my veins every time I think that I might die, it only serves to make me feel stronger.
No longer cowering in the corner, no longer crying for attention. No longer living as though I may as well already be dead.
And thus I come to wonder.. For so long, have I truly been fearing it? Or.. Craving it's sweet release?
Have I truly feared the reaper, when I've never had to?
Does it fuel my madness, my anger, my fear, or does it only empower my sanity, my euphoria, my glory?
Maybe all of them, and maybe none of them.
There is however, one thing I could say with certainty
So head my words carefully;
The wolf will never fear the reaper again.
