Connor

Posted Friday, November 10, 2023

6mo

ENFP

Libra

Just some writings I did awhile back, careful though, it's a tad edgy ^^"

As I stepped through the house, the Inky blackness surrounding me, visions of a dream I once had play throughout my mind like a video. Scene by scene, it plays out, the message explaining its beliefs to me loud and clear, but my heart aches as the truth unfolds itself as a sheet of paper would. Each step I take is carefully planned, almost as if I was expecting some unknowable visitor to hear me. The house was empty, besides my roommate who lived in the top floor with me, her dog shaking every now and again as he got up from his periodic naps. Though I knew my footsteps wouldn't intrude on them, I stepped softly as to not arouse something. Perhaps, though, I thought to not disturb the silence. It was this silence that spoke to me. It told me lies, truths, it made me reflect, contradict, argue, and yet listen I still did. My room, my house, was as quiet as a grave. How did this come to be? Once, our voices filled this home to the lofts, cheering and laughing, crying and venting, and yet here we are. Alone, yet away. Why is that, do you think? Is it because, as my dream foretold, our paths yet differ for but a moment? A cosmic blink of an eye? Or, perhaps this is of my own doings. I focus so much on the past and old traditions, maybe I have done nothing but hold me...hold us, back. It is difficult, I must admit, to be here in this aquired silence. I say acquired simply because I have volunteered myself for it. I said that all would be fine in this darkness, this absence of life and light and voice. In a way, it is. The darkness speaks in volumes admist its cold silence, louder than anything someone could shout. The truth it speaks is all it does, all other things are that of the imagination. I can not fathom that which is buried deep into this abyss, though that in and of itself is another lie. I can, as it was I who buried those understandings away some time ago. You would be surprised to learn of how many different habits come up when left alone in this place. The thunder rolls above me, rain now breaks the silence, and I am left here yet to ponder. I once took up that forbidden thing, you know, though I refused to tell you. It was a pact I was to never break, and break it I have not. The tempting nature of that sensation though, the burning, the warmth, the forgetting, would not be something I would refuse to acknowledge. Clearly it was there, found admist that which I left buried in that dark place, the silence rooting it out as a dog would a fox. Beckoned by you, I stumbled towards your ephemeral silhouette, a hand stretched out towards me in an offer of reconciliation. However, blind was I to understand that this hand was mere temperance to the fact that I have become so domitable. Your voice reached me, again, our tears ran down our faces as rain would, and our hearts connected for the first time in what seemed as though it was eternity. Lifting this us from world, fighting it off in the name of us, is a task that only the most dedicated would undertake. I was zealous, I AM zealous, but it feels as though that zealotry has whittled away at my form now. Your absence, though encouraged and persuaded too, has brought down this great lack of understanding. Perhaps to rephrase, though, an acknowledgement of the lack of understanding of myself. I conclude this with such a statement, one that I believe fulfills my mind in such a way that I can fully express without an expeditious dive into that which I have brought unto this environment. This weight of my choice, though heavy it may be, I've not to regret. Joy has brought you here, and the pleasure makes the days easier. I, weighted down by my lack of ability, strive ever further to make our reality possible, regardless of that which is out of my reach. I know that, in the end of this, it will all be justified, but I will suffer the sting until that day comes. forever and always... (edited)