Expectations meet Reality

I think we’re all looking for something, and the idea of looking for something, whether it’s an item, your favourite game, or the latest product in whatever aspect of our busy capitalistic lives or it could be a someone. When it is a someone I think part of us accelerates our movement, and when we find a shot of finding someone who resonates with us, we can sometimes shoot off like fireworks when we could just walk.

The problem with this is that this is an expectation that’s created by our own minds. Running and racing, pushing us down the rabbit hole of various desires, and slight obsessions, but expectations get crushed when the reality hits.

When you take two steps when you should’ve taken one, and you feel like you’re overbearing, and you step back, and then you suddenly seem like you don’t care, and then you stand there wondering how to fix the situation in front of you like it’s a problem that you can even begin to comprehend how to fix, or solve, or win.

It’s a constant tug of war, and when you meet someone who expects you to be a certain way, and you expect them to be a certain way, it can quickly become chaotic, problematic, and a little hard to handle. Arguments happen, and you go to and fro, and get in each other’s way, and if arguments start before you even become something, my advice is to walk away now because what would it be like in a few months? a few years?

So take a step back, without zooming into the distance and look at the big picture, compare what you expected, to reality, and ask yourself: “Is this what I really want” because if it isn’t, then it’s okay to step back. The bad thing to do is for either party to hold on when they’re not really interested in actually doing anything to change the direction it’s going.

This post may sound convoluted, or with dual meaning, but here’s a message for life, don’t do anything you want to do, and when you do commit to someone, if you’re like me, a commitment means commitment, not a joke so when you do feel cornered by the person you start to fall for, let them go, because love can’t survive when it’s cornered.

And if you’re the opposite, and you’re running in their direction, hands open, be prepared for a tumble and a fall, but that doesn’t mean you have to disperse and dissipate. Just look, think, and be honest with each other, and with yourself.

The thing you can do is take a step back and take in a breath of fresh air. Then, live life like a flowing river, so when you feel down, or when you feel trapped, or even when you feel scared, or driven away from what you want and what you love– remember that life is like a river– always moving. It will never be that way for long. Be like a river, and keep going.

Daniel Thomas Whittington's portrait.

“It’s a good thing I’ve stopped looking, else I’d never see.”

– Daniel Thomas Whittington.

 

P.S

 

“Cree en ti misma, y cuando tu no lo hagas, lo hare yo.”

 

It’s times like these I miss you.

Daily Prompt: Vice

via Daily Prompt: Vice

Vice…

We all have that one thing that hinders us, pushes us, lunges for us like a caged animal. The thing about a vice is that it is the dark hand on your shoulder that has a hold on you, causes your addiction, that face you pull when you smile into darkness, and it holds you in such a prison the bars seem invisible, but they are everywhere, in everything.

It can be a pull on your mind, a pull on your body, or a pull on your soul… a craving, a desire, something that draws you, and takes you in it’s arms. Drugs? alcohol? desire?

So, when do you wake up from your melancholic rage? Your sanguine desire? When do you wake up, and remember that your vice doesn’t have control of you? Can you? Can you escape the darkness once you’ve tasted it? Or is it a matter of time, just a “how long can you hold your breath?” until the tides roll over you, suffocate you, and pull you under the depths of confrontation with your demons.

Vice…

We are a collection of memories; if you could look at all of yours in a single moment, would you smile? or would you cry?

See you around cowboy/girls

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Balanced? I think not.

So, sometimes I feel as warm as the sun, and other times, I’m as cool as a cucumber (excuse the pun), as cold as ice… (We’re never going to get anywhere like this)… at sub-zero… I’ll show myself out… Here’s a door:

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I mean, just look at today…

It’s warm outside, warm in my soul… I mean, steering back to reality: It’s been a fun day; I took my daughter out to Cardiff bay, along with my buddy Conor.

Hey, look it’s Conor!

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Well, no it’s not Conor.

Maybe slightly less hair.

Anyway, moving on; see what I mean? I told you we’ll not get anywhere tonight.

So, I want to seriously start by stating that I lost a friend today. After arranging for her to visit in September, I realised that she was using me for a bit of a back-up plan with a few friends that she felt awkward around at the time, and I could see her changing her mind about a lot of things, and messing me around. The worst thing was that she pretended to like me more than a friend, so I’d say yes to her coming, which is ridiculous, I mean if she just said she wanted to be friends I would have been more than happy to let her stay. I’m just that type of person. Cool-beans, right? (tragic)

Anyway, with that out of the way, I burned that bridge real good, ended that friendship because that’s a big no-no to me, and if I didn’t end it there I would be goose-stepping into another despicably annoying situation (Heh, walking like a goose, can you imagine?)

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Here’s a picture of a goose, just in case you can’t. (Heh, this one looks like he’s having a giggle, or holding someone up for bread)

Anyway, with that out of the way, my stress was halved, and I had a brilliant day, filled with sunshines and rainbows… I mean look at this:

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I told you, see the rainbow, taste the rainbow. (Okay, seriously now, I will stop)

Anyway, in conclusion to my day, it’s been a pretty interesting one, and Conor is visiting me for a while, and it’s been pretty nice having someone around to talk to in the evenings as I’ve been alone most of the summer… in the evening anyway. So… it’s still a little adjustment though, being around someone else in this house is strange. It’s alien, aside from having my daughter here of course, and we all have to get used to the way things work. That’s life though.

Anyway, aside from a moody hour or two this evening, today has been a great day and I’m looking forward to doing many more things over the next year which includes going canoeing again, stepping onto the clubbing scene (How you doin’?)

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Okay, I lied about stopping the puns. That one was a classic though, can you blame me?

Anyway, I’ve had enough days where I can call different shades of shit and it is definitely time to change the way I see my days now, and move on.

I had a conversation with an ex of mine over trying again, and I couldn’t take a single step down that road; she messaged me, and all I could think about was how awkward it was reading the words she wrote. I knew she hadn’t ‘changed’ I mean, a leopard and it’s spots and all that jazz.

Here’s a leopard:

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Look! This one has a happy hat.

Anyway, back on point; it’s easy to say yes to something that won’t work, because you may miss someone, or even have some form of inclin of memory, but it takes a better person to say no to something that you do not feel 100% about, regardless of how it affects them, or yourself, knowing it will only make things worse. If you have to ruin yourself to help another, you’re doing it wrong, and I certainly do value my sanity recently.

Furthermore? Yes, there’s more, always is.

I want to work on myself, I know I’ve been belching the same theme for the last three months, but it’s imperative that we all work on ourselves, and after a decent chat with a friend through fb this evening, I understand that this is something I definitely want to do, seeking happiness for yourself, is a must. For, you do not want to enter a relationship, depending on the other person for happiness, it’s not what it is about. Even if it takes 20 years for me to find that place in my life, I don’t care. If someone comes along and adds to my life, not take away, I’ll be fine, but I won’t be compromising my own happiness, anymore. Fuck the ghosts of my past, they are ghosts for a reason, and now… on that note… they can perish like the mother fuckers they are.

Hasta la vista, mujeres.

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So, those of the people in my life who walk with me on this journey of mine for the better, are more than welcome. I will always be there for those who treat me with respect. I know a certain person will read this, and feel a bit worried, if she isn’t covering her face with a very hard slapping hand right now… but, here’s a message to the people in my life who really are trying to add to it, I don’t know where I’d be without you all:

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One day I will find the ying to my yang, but until then, I’ll stride on the waves of life.

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I’ll see you around, cowboys/cowgirls.

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Daily Prompt: Complicated

via Daily Prompt: Complicated

Complicated…

What is complicated?

Complicated is dangerous, though complicated is something that I would purport to be, I’m actually rather simple, but my thoughts can get complicated.

Perhaps it’s because I see things in different ways, or the fact that my brain refuses to switch off… All I know is that I make a lot of trouble for myself.

I’d recently had a conversation about my stubbornness. I argued with the girl and said it was important to me, also relating to the post: Stubbornness. Stubbornness isn’t the right word for it though. The right word for this is tenacity. Being tenacious is something that comes naturally to me, though as of late, there have been shifts of feeling tenacious, and then suddenly feel a lack of resolve, and almost feel like I’m drifting, and that feeling is hard to explain to the people around me, and lately, I’ve had arguments with people over it, because one minute I’m the nicest, most enthusiastic person around, and the next I’m moody, distant and not bothered.

The problem is, see, that I’m always bothered, always there, so I get this mixed feeling of worry how I will somehow annoy someone because of the way I am, and that even telling them that i experience these things, not being understood in that way and then getting assumed that I find everything easy to handle. Now, sure, from the outside view, you may think I have a firm grip on everything, but sometimes, I can’t walk outside without feeling my hands shake, so, arguments are the last thing I need, because I distance myself away from people so much so that I find it difficult letting them back in. Imagine me having a coat of armour around my body, and never taking it off. Every time I feel pushed into a corner it gets thicker, and thicker. Eventually, there’s very little of me that I let you see, however, I would want nothing more than someone to walk straight through it and dismantle the pieces.

That’s being complicated.

Sanctuary

In response to Sanctuary

Sanctuary…

Sanctuary is the place you feel most safe, a place away from the dangers of the world. A haven, from the living, and the dead. A sanctuary is a place where we find comfort, a place where we find peace.

I will write about sanctuary in the terms of Thomas’ story, in the universe of the novel I’m planning.

There was once, once upon a time, where I found sanctuary. It felt brief, almost like the fleeting warmth of a beautiful dream, or the disappearing memory of someone’s touch. I did not feel safe in my home. A place where much death had taken place, and the place where my father taught my how to struggle, and how to kill. That place, took what innocence I had left-no, it was not my sanctuary. I did not feel safe in the biggest castle, or out on the furthest reaches of the sea. I did not find comfort drinking myself to sleep, in the merriest of inns, or the drunkest of halls. I thought I felt at home, when I stood on top of a mountain side, but when I stood there alone, I felt nothing but whispers in the wind. That was the moment I realised I had already found my sanctuary, but also lost it, too. That was when I had discovered that my sanctuary was you. For me, my sanctuary was a person, not a place. The person who you felt safest with, most at home. That person who made everything feel right. My sanctuary was always moving, for it was not something built, or part of the ground we walked on. Even in my darkest moment, or when I stood facing my strongest adversary, or even when I was broken into a hundred pieces, what kept me together was you. For that, I will never be able to repay you.

So, that is what sanctuary means to me. Is it a place for you? Or is it a person you’ve already met, or have yet to meet?

Cowardice

Response to The Daily Post‘s cowardice.

Cowardice:

I had never thought about how I harboured cowardice. I thought myself strong, tough, sensitive, but never cowardly.

Cowardice, is not being able to make a choice. Cowardice, is being afraid to take a step. Cowardice, has been me.

I’ve always wanted to change, but never took the steps necessary to do so. By that, even with my weight training, or losing the weight I have, I always let myself get distracted. Back in May, and June, I was a headstrong person, who started believing in himself. I had such promise, and conviction in myself. I mean, fuck, I didn’t need anybody. What a facade that was.

When a woman I was getting far too close to, reciprocated feelings for me, which at that moment in time, felt absolutely perfect, which, I would love to lie, and pretend they didn’t, and I would love to tell you some bullshit story about how I am strong enough not to let something so simple as a couple of intimate moments with a woman to get me down so much, but I’d be lying. And lying, is something I am very good at, but also hate, with a passion.

Now, I’m discussing cowardice because it is a word that has resembled the way I have been with those around me. I should strong-arm through my day, like I would have done, once upon a time, but I didn’t, I haven’t, I wouldn’t, and I couldn’t.

All the ifs, and buts have nothing on me. I’ve been living in a liminal stage of life for a very long time. I’ve held onto people that I should have let go of perhaps a life-time, or two ago.

Cowardice something that we shall never be able to run from.

Cowardice something that will hunt us, the further we walk from it.

Cowardice That trapped feeling, breathless, inescapable.

You know, sometimes, I feel trapped with my circumstances, with my life, but I will forever be the person who is trapped by choice. I know it’s bad to say, or sad to say, and don’t get me wrong, I love my little family, of us two, but sometimes, I can’t help but feel exhausted.

That being because I made that choice, I never had a chance to let go of the ghosts in my past, and I’m never truly alone with my thoughts long enough to mourn them, and then let go of them, so they follow me, almost haunting me. I say, almost.

Back to the woman, the point is that instead of being strong enough to let it go, walk away, and forget about feelings that will have me enthralled, I end up dooming myself by pushing myself into such a path that beckons me to suffer. I don’t take the time I need away from that person, those people. I end up swaying, like a ship in the water, on the edge of a pressure plate, deciding whether to float to the left, or to the right. And, that’s simply how it is. I’m not mad with her, in fact, she’s been rather awesome about it all. Been really pleasant, and kind to me.

It’s more so, my cowardice that I’m scared of burning a bridge. I’ve thought I was getting pretty good at burning bridges, turns out I always leave something closing the space between two islands. Even if it is but the size of a string.

And, this is the adverse effect of being a fool, a foolish bloody fool who puts themselves out there for everyone to hold onto, but I refuse to put my hand out to someone, for myself, permanently, because I’ve never had someone stay, and I’ve never had someone choose me. This isn’t a hit to anyone, just simply the truth.

It’s my cowardice that stops me from being able to let go of the people who easily let go of me. It’s for that, that I end up trapped in the past, in the memories, in people like you. But, that gets lost, combined with this feeling I’ve felt since I was a young pup.

Thanks to a friend today, I have a word for it:

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Yearning for something that may not have even existed. Mourning over another life maybe? Who the fuck knows. But, what that means, is that I’ve not let go of whatever it is, and if I never find it? I never find that other half of me that completes my soul, I don’t think I’d last very long. Like a lonely budgie in a cage on its own.

So, what is my cowardice?

  • Not being able to tell people what I truly think.
  • Not being able to tell the people I care about, how I feel, for fear of losing them, like it happens on repeat.
  • For being careless, and not being attentive, just in case I get too close to someone
  • For wanting love, but also fearing love.
  • For not being able to let go of certain things in my life
  • For looking for something I’ll never have.
  • Not being happy with myself, and seeking others to fill the gap.
  • For trying, and trying, failing, and failing, and wondering why I should even get back up again…
  • For not stepping a foot out of this country
  • For being too scared to push myself in a direction, for my footsteps will become stone
  • For being too weak, to believe in myself
  • For not walking forward.
  • I noticed it more lately, when I get heart palpitations when you ask me what’s wrong, and I’m not able to say, but more so, I just don’t want to be vulnerable again.
  • It’s cowardice I am scared to become vulnerable, and in being scared of being vulnerable, of being open, I am vulnerable. Ironic, eh?
  • Not being able to stick to my own rules.
  • Being too scared to try my best, and put everything.
  • It’s the idea that when someone promises you they will be there for you, you can’t believe them, because you’re afraid of letting someone too close.
  • For that, I don’t think there will ever be someone out there who truly understands me, who gets me, though, I think the only person I’d want that person to be is someone I get married to.

That is my cowardice, and I hope that one day it changes. Without a doubt, I will try my best to change it… So, I’ve let cowardice take over lately, one bump in the road after a while, and I hate it. So, I’m going to change it, and stop letting myself get pushed into the ground, and stop being taken advantage of, and stop letting empty thoughts, and feelings, win.

My next post, will be how I’m going to change it. And this time, I will damn-well rise above it, for me, and no-one else. I’m taking a break from stretching my mind too thin, and trying to reach out to people. I’m taking a break from looking to other people… It’s time to listen to myself, and reach inside of me. Who am I? and what do I want?

Believe in yourself, for when you don’t, I will. But right now… I’m going to finally try and fix my broken pieces.

The head of the family P.1

[Parental advisory]

The mud had soaked every drop of the rain, and it ruined the earth. It was soggy, and wet. There were patches where the ground was hollow, and one would sink deep. The no longer wore hard protective skins, even they had been treated to the wickedness of the rain, the flooding. It had been three months now, so far. It seemed fitting, for Thomas was to confront the man he had been running away from these past years. It had been three years since he set eyes on his father, once more.

Thomas had the eyes of his father, a set of piercing green. He had a few whiskers on his hair that differed, but shared the same facial hair, a mix of colours in his beard, but primarily dark brown. Thomas had a rough set of hair that fell down to the bottom of his neck. It had been several moons since he had a chance to cut it. He did not believe in long-hair meant strength. He had enough strength, he would argue. He walked through the stretches of mud, squishing through the plains.

There he was.

There, he waited.

“Has he been waiting for me all of this time?”

A man sat in the rain, his cloak, and trousers on the floor beside him, and his sword in his hands. Thomas’ father was hunting him. This time, Thomas decided to meet him, face to face, to end the hunt once, and for all. He was tired of running, and he was tired of being called something he was not.

“You’re a monster” the ghosts of his past beckoned. “You’re a beast!” they would shout, creating a very large gap between themselves and Thomas. All because of his father’s legend, as the bloodied white wolf.

Thomas however, was the one wearing the cloak now, the one that had seen so much blood it still had the dim colour of sanguine seeped into its fur. Thomas slowly approached the man, standing bandaged, and temporarily fixed together. He had suffered through much, since they last had met. He had fixed his broken bones, and mended his bruises. He had even cleaned his face, before this confrontation. He cleaned his clothes, even though it was raining, and when he was close enough for him to see his father, he could not help but clench his fist. He held his fingers so tightly, he thought they would break. He fixed his stare on his father, and allowed his anger to protect him, and put a wall of strength up between them. He had no time to be soft, not now.

“Thomas, my son. I knew you would not run away forever. You’re not that type of person.”

Thomas thought of something to say but was too slow. Trinson stood up, put his clothes on, and fastened his grim, grey coat to his back.

“How is my sword doing? Are you keeping it in good condition?”

Thomas eyed the sheath he carried on his side for a moment before looking back at Trinson.

“It suits you well.” Trinson announced.

Trinson had a pony-tail that collected most of his hair away from his eyes. There were one or two tufts that fell down the front, but nothing that bothered him. Trinson picked up his scabbarded sword. It laid sheathed in a metal scabbard. the design was intricate, and had his family house imprinted onto the side.

“When you left me, I had to make this sword, a black steel blade. Do you know how hard it was to make?” Trinson refused to let Thomas speak and continued, “No, of course you don’t. You haven’t had a hard day’s work in your life. You had it easy. My mistake. Now, it has come to my attention that you have been sullying our family name. You have struck down a guardian, a friend of mine, and it is something I won’t be able to let go of. You’re my responsibility. I will clean up the mess I made all those years ago.”

Thomas no longer denied his anger, and let it flood through, “I’m your mess? You self-righteous, arrogant bastard.” Thomas reached for his sword, and untied it from around his waist. He took the white-steel blade out of the casing, and when he pulled it out, it rung with the sound of a perfect blade. It had no dents, and was not battered. He pointed the sword to his father and said, “You damned our family the day you let Katherine perform that ritual on our grounds. Mother, she is a part of that tree, alongside those monsters who killed her. Do you realise that? No, of course not. You do not understand the ways of our world. You just like to pretend to.”

Trinson took his sword out of the casing, imitating Thomas, but without a hint of anger in his heart. He pulled a dark grey sword, a ‘black blade’ out of the scabbard. “This blade, is an attribute to my weakness. It is my revenge, and my darkness. The reason for its creation, was to bring you back home.” He faced his sword in the opposite direction to Thomas, affixing his eyes on him, changing his stance, and burying his feet in the mud, and pointing at him, “Dead, or alive.”

Part of Thomas understood this, and let go of part of his anger, as he put himself into this position. He knew he had to be more intelligent than his father, if he was capable of beating him. He had not put in the years like his father did. He had not seen multitudes of battle. He had some catching up to do, but was younger.

They stood head to head, with clothes that weighed on them heavily. They stood with their cloaks fastened, a true marvel to watch. You would have thought they would have died from the cold alone. Both Thomas, and Trinson had been given the markings of the old ones down their arms, and legs. So much so, that they bandaged their body, to hide their markings. Even if the amount was small, that was the thing they had in common, a disgusted feeling of what they had become, by accepting their gifts.

Thomas stood aligned in a good place, not just in body, and though he was furious, he was one with his monster. If you could see their spirit, it would be like the light, and darkness of a person, wreathing around one another, both clutching the sword, together. They stood opposed to the person that created his monster to begin with.

The rain softened for a moment.

That was the moment the battle started.

Both Thomas, and Trinson ran at each other. Thomas stepped heavy, lunging so hard he slid through the mud on his third step, and Trinson swung his sword around. It sliced the hairs over Thomas’ forehead, but Thomas did not falter. He did not blink. He thrust his sword forward, and forced Trinson to move to the side. They met swords on the second bout and sparks from the two blades shot everywhere. The impact of the swords were epic, and after the hit, the blades ran across one another, as the men prepared for the next move. Thomas grabbed his first knife from his pocket, and so did Trinson. They let loose the parried swords, and swung with their alternate hands. Thomas dropped his blade, and grabbed Trinson’s arm, squeezing his wrist so tight, that he caused him to let go of his blade. Trinson dropped his sword, and threw his fist. His sword landed downwards in the mud. Trinson punched Thomas, his fist, connecting to Thomas’ cheek, a punch so hard that it freed Thomas’ feet in the mud. Thomas lost his grip in the floor. That was when his father grabbed him around the waist, throwing him to the floor. He leant on Thomas’ back, and fastened his arms around his neck, “I’m sorry it had to end like this son.”

Thomas gasped, reached for something, anything, he tried to wriggle. The rain, worsened. He was losing his breath.

Thomas unfastened his cloak, he swung his head back as far as he could. He hit something, but could not see. Trinson loosened his grip. Thomas slid out of his cloak, and rolled away from Trinson. He grabbed his sword, and stood up. Trinson did the same. They took a step back, before Trinson took his own cloak off, to imitate him.

They stood opposing one another, like two different colour flames. They panted, but quickly calmed down. Trinson’s nose had blood dribbling from his right nostril. Thomas got lucky, hitting him in such a place. Thomas had two straps, one from his shoulder, down to his waist, and one wrapping around his waist. The straps had three sockets, for his knives. Two of which remained. Trinson, had a knife on a belt around his leg, and two around the strap on his shoulder. One of which, was missing.

They seemed like equals.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have taught me how to fight. You can go home, if this is too tough for you, father.”

Trinson smiled. “That’s the boy I remember, still a cocky little shit.”

Trinson raised his sword to his left, and Thomas did the same. One sword face the right, and one the left. They moved around each other, like wolves fighting for leadership.

“I don’t want to be the bloodied white wolf, I don’t want to be remembered as you.” Thomas cried.

“Then you should have thought of that before you stole my sword, and cloak!”

“What was I to do!? You were killing me! Do you realise what you were doing, trying to pull my monster out of me?”

Trinson refused to believe him. He trusted his own word, and his own word, was right, to him.

Thomas could see the look on his father’s face. He could not believe that his father did not believe him. He purported it was time to show his father why he was living up to his father’s name.

Thomas dug his sword into the mud beneath him. He started untying his bandages with his teeth, and laid them on the ground.

“Did you not think about the weather? You will die if you take your under-layers off.”

Thomas smiled. His stare, still aimed at his father.

“I met Grandfather during my spiritual travels, you know.”

Trinson clenched his weapon tight, “You don’t have the right to speak of him.”

Thomas took out the ritual blade, he had in one of the three pockets of his straps. He cut his hand open, a very fine cut. He slid the blood down his wrists, down his arms, and through every marking he had on his body. He stood there, and though his eyes were green, something about them felt wrong. He looked at Trinson, as if he saw six of him. Trinson gulped, “When did you mark your whole body? Why would you do such a thing? This thing was dangerous enough with the arms and legs.”

“I am the son of the bloodied white wolf, but I am not him.” Thomas grabbed his head. A sharp pain pulsated through head.

That monster within him, that was so balanced, completely took over. In an instant. The markings around his body gave them both enough energy, for his monster to come out.

“What vile nature is this?” Trinson asked.

“Thomas, what have you done?” Trinson pleaded.

Trinson held his sword with two hands, and faced what was in front of him. Thomas stood, in a strange fashion, a little crooked, “We, come from a place much older than your gods, Trinson. We are older than the first ones, and certainly stronger. We may not seem like it, and you may have chose to bury us in the ground as a failure, or a monster, but we are not so. Here, we are weak. Thanks to you, for the first time in the dozens of lives that we have had, walking on this earth, I have been able to hold this body, as my own, and not be a part of him.”

Trinson looked in awe. It was something he had been searching for, for a very long time. Answers to the questions in his head, but suddenly, he felt a horrible, stomach churning sensation in his stomach.

“No, you’re not him. Thomas, fight it!”

Trinson rushed forward, swinging his blade, in a fury. He swung from his right, and Thomas seemed to move underneath it, without a second thought. Trinson swung again, from his left, but Thomas pushed his fingers against the sword, and pushed it away from him.

Trinson jumped a step back.

“Everyone, it’s him. He finally reached for control. I need your help” he bellowed a shout that stretched to the trees behind him.

Thomas was faced with more than one foe.

Berenger ‘the bear’, Delbert ‘the stag’, Griswald ‘The Raven’, Nilvar ‘The boar’, Rodric ‘The fox’,

Six of them stood in front of Thomas.

Six of them, took their cloaks off. They stood as the people who protected their nation, from both humans, and anyone who threatened their mother’s world. By mother, a woman called Lisbett created this order. She stood as one of the last remaining völvas. She knew something was going to come, but wasn’t sure when. It looks like it found them in the end.

“So these, are the six bastards that no parent wanted. I bet you must have thought she really loved you? Aren’t there supposed to be nine of you?” Thomas beckoned,”Trinson, why is it that you received a last name, but the others didn’t, if you’re all equals?”

Trinson whispered words in an archaic voice. There was a battle to happen here, and it was going to be the end of all of them, or the end of one.

A thousand apologies

What do you say to someone who asks you why you no longer have a smile on your face, or joy in your eyes? How do you tell them its because your heart is closed, perhaps, even broken? What do you say to those people in the street, who you pass and they shout, “Smile!” What do you say? I doubt I’ve cracked a smile in the last eight years. Since the day they took you from me. Since I lost myself, driving them away.

It is hard not to become a monster, not to plunge your teeth into your enemies, and take from them everything. But, we do not start like this, in fact, I wonder whether I even noticed at the time, that I was losing my mind, and becoming a monster. I wonder whether I had known what would happen to me, but knowing me? Knowing the great Thomas Vargr, the great ‘fool’, I did, do, and always will know the path in front of me. I often wonder whether there is a small fraction of myself that hates me, that really hates me; whether it pushes me down paths like these for fun, or just to see if I would break, or grow stronger.

I don’t know whether it is jealousy, but I know it is there. There’s something. When I look into a clear lake, and see the reflection of myself, I notice a small glint in my eye, even when I’m at my lowest, my darkest, or my hardest times. It is like some part of me, somewhere, is enjoying my pain. Could it be so? Something inside of us all that stands against us? I hope it isn’t just me.

It’s something I wish I could talk to Lisett about. It is something I wish I could ask her. She seemed to know more about me than anyone else. She seemed to understand that darker side. I remember when I walked with her, even when we fought, we both had that sinister darkness inside us. We enjoyed the fight, the pain we caused, and the pain we received. The cuts, the slashes, the bruises, the broken bones. We were like vampires of the soul, manipulating the un-shielded, the weak.

I caught up to her for a while, but even she too, could not handle those chasing me. They are still hunting me down, after all these years. It had been eight years since I had killed their king. Even though, I could have stayed around, and usurped the throne, I would be no better. I would be no proper, and decent King. I am not my father, and even though he was no king, he naturally brought people together. He could have handled it, this, but not me.

What I would do, for another conversation with you Trinson. I wonder what your words of wisdom would be like. Probably something like this “Get up boy, stop being foolish, and start being strong. Your grandfather would be disappointed that his grandson looks at the world in such dis-taste. You get up, peel the mud from your body, clean the blood, forgive, and forget, and then confront the ghosts of your past, the demons of your mind… and conquer them.”

I lost to my demon though. I mean, it was a fair fight, but circumstances tore me in half, and my stronger half won. That was all. I lost what was most important to me, and something in me snapped. I couldn’t hold in my anger anymore, and it consumed me, until I took my revenge… then all I had left, was sadness.

I tried seeking out the witches who tried to find me. I came across one in a pub down south. She was crazy,

“Thomas, There are people coming for us, people, like you and me. They are coming to destroy us, take our souls. You must not let them. Please, we’re gathering the remaining covens of witches, and fleeing to a place deemed safe. One of our members owns an island to the east. Come to us when you feel most alone. We won’t shy you away.”

I didn’t believe her. I scoffed at her, mistakenly. And, when I didn’t go with her, I found a deep sorrow, for reasons I was not aware of at the time. It was like, the chains of my soul, which connected to all things, lost something I deemed precious. I visited the island last year. Nothing was left, except the hanging bodies of women, crucified, hung from the trees they cultivated, and left on the floor, in pieces.

What was I supposed to do with this sadness, this knowledge? Was I responsible? My actions, as the second white wolf? The devil of the North? or would it have happened regardless of my actions?

I should have performed a ritual on them, to cleanse the area, and release them from this world, but part of me grew so dark, I felt I was not able to do such things, that I had no right to, anymore. Alessandra, Beatrice, Kristel, Linnea, Lucille, Sera, Thara, Valencia, I am sorry. I hold no right to seek forgiveness, for not being there to protect you. Even though I made those vows to you, as a protector, when I was a boy. I didn’t see it as something serious back then, but I am sorry.

As for my last apology… It is directed at you, my lady, my Freya. I don’t know what pulled me to you in this life, and it didn’t matter who I was attracted to, or who held my attention, none held it quite like you, and you were everything I needed to fight back my demons, and you made me strong. Protecting you, was what held me together, and gave me purpose.

I am just sorry I failed you… please don’t chase me anymore… please, don’t follow me, for when I look at you, I see regret, and I see failure. I cannot take your pain, not can I take your scars away. I failed. I am not the man my father thought I was. I can barely protect myself…

I am at the end of my travels. I will try my best to end the revenge-killings, and then I will leave this world, for good, this time.

 

 

Words of the day

Now, I thought it’d be nice to have a little message, each day for people who need a helping hand, or to know that someone cares.

And here it is:

Whenever you feel like giving up, whether it because you have felt like death has followed you lately, or whether you feel like your friends have abandoned you, or even if you simply feel alone. Know that there are people who are there to speak to. But more importantly, don’t forget to speak to yourself.

You might think that is strange, and I don’t mean in the slightly scary way of Schizophrenic battles of the mind, but remember to listen to yourself, for what you think you want, can be so much different from what you need. Do you need some space? some isolation to get over something? Then give yourself it, don’t cling to other people, just sigh, give a deep breath, and have a day to yourself.

What you’ll find is that you’ll have a moment of realization, where that puzzle in your head fixes itself, because you allowed yourself some time to accept the events that have happened, and you will be open to moving forward, rather than being stuck, alongside the ghosts of your past.

And when you feel you need someone to talk to, and if you don’t have anyone there, I will be. Remember, that is all starts with you.

So…

Believe in yourself, for when you don’t, I will.

Just a ripple in the ocean

The problems I keep coming across is that I find getting close to people who don’t really care that much about me. I mean, don’t get me wrong… sometimes I come across friends who try, for a while, or I come across people who tell me they are always there, but in actual fact is anyone really there when you need them?

When you’re sat up thinking, even when you mention it to those friends who tell you once a week that they are there for you. I find myself dealing with every problem I ever come across, alone. Whether it be because the people around me are too busy to reply, or whether being there for me is just what they think I want to hear. Who knows, really. 

What I will say though, is that whenever I ultimately put my trust in someone and start believing in someone, that they will be there for me when I need them I find it drives a wedge between us. 

What I have come to realise lately is that sometimes we hold onto things, people and idealisms that put more darkness into our souls than light. That for me, is where I have my downfall.

I hold onto people from my past, even when I think I don’t. Giving an example: The person I used to tell everything to. What I find is that I get asked about my problems for gossip sake, as opposed to actually trying to help. Sometimes, it does help just to write them out to someone, but in most cases, it doesn’t.

Now, there are others who let me talk for the world but have nothing to say. Now, I appreciate the fact people listen, but I want someone who can give as much as they take… so to speak. I don’t want to talk about me, I want to know about you. 

Now, as of late, for the better part of a year I feel that I have lacked a certain substance in my conversations. It is like people are so defensive they can’t talk openly with people anymore. Even words so simple as, “how are you?” get a dodgy reply of “why?” and anything further? just seems to them like you are digging for gold…

All I know is that for everyday I get ignored, or people looking at me stupid for being nice, or assuming I am after something because I am not afraid of complimenting someone, I feel more attuned to understanding, and trusting myself. It will get to a point where I will stop trying with these people. So, when I read your words and don’t reply, when I stop saying goodnight, and good morning, when I stop trying… Then you’ll know you’re one of the people that pushed me towards self-reliance, and loss oh hope in those who have crossed paths with me.

I will always be there for as many people as I can, but it is about time I stop being a sap for people to piss on when they “find someone better”.
So, whether we have not yet crossed paths, or have crossed paths already, if you don’t like this post, then prove me wrong?
Believe in yourself, for when you don’t, I will. This is just one brick in a very long wall. 
It is time I move on from the ghosts of my past.