Psychic Freefall

I had thought that going home would solve my problems; I thought the silence would help me heal. I left everything to come back, only to realise how much I've lost. After having spent the week with my two separate families, my mum and two dads, I realise that when I walk through the brass gates, I am alone once more. Granted, I have never sought my parents out for help when I fall. Only once did I call X, a long time ago when I left my mum's place in tears. He came roaring down in his pickup. At 1 in the morning. Brought me back to his place, made me eat vegetable soup of all things, then told me to sleep, and that he would take care of everything. Years and years ago, yet as clear as yesterday to me. I'm falling. I'm falling and I don't know if I can even find the strength to scream for help, an urgent cry for angels unseen. Being home last night, being with X over the past week, reminded me of what I stand to lose. Conversations with X have become a subtle battlefield, veiled barbs flying out from both of us. I flinch everytime he looks at me, I run away everytime he brushes close to me, and I try my hardest to keep that distance between us. What can I do? My other dad was pleased that I made an effort to stay for dinner, going through the formalities for his sake. I damn my inability to express what I truly feel to the people who truly matter. Faced with them, in that one indescribable moment, I either break down completely or run hard and fast. I realised last night as I sat down at the dinner table with my parents, all three of them, that I do love them. My two fathers, and my mum. My mum cooked my favourite dish, and my dad made fruit juice. Why is it the smallest gestures seem so monumental to me, yet I can't even bring myself to tell them how much they mean to me? All our petty bickering, our many fights over the years dim in the light of what I felt yesterday. My parents' parting words to me are always, "Come back soon." And always I nod silently, without meeting their eyes, flying away on wings of frost and crystal, the famed ice prince. Cold and dispassionate, but capable of turning scorching hot in the blink of an eye when crossed. Do I view emotion as a sign of weakness? Yes. Without hesitation, yes. It is a terrible weakness to me. Perhaps that is why I feel so stupidly weak on this cold morning, alone in this empty void. The walls are suddenly so much bigger, and I feel so much smaller. The house is silent without the cats' soft morning calls, so much colder without the warmth of family. I don't know how X sees me now, and I don't think I want to. As dawn's chariot touches down on earth this morning, I fall into the pit of memories, bittersweet and overwhelming. What do I need, really? As I fall further and further, what can lift me back up from the darkness which has claimed my soul? Why do I withdraw, and push away everyone who tries to help? Can they help? Can I deaden these emotions which leave me dazed and confused? These things that I have rarely felt before, things that make me weep for a thousand mistakes in a single lifetime. Four words ghost through my mind, faint but nevertheless discernible. "What have I done?"
A night without armor.

Psychic Keys

A few nights ago, I was struck with a thought. Perhaps inherent within all of us are keys that unlock our hidden potential. The potential for good, for greatness, for power, for darkness. As night crept over my estate, and the cats prowled the house with predatory elegance, I glanced out at the dark skies and wondered again what my purpose in life was. I only half remember a quote I tossed out so carelessly those nights ago. It does not matter now. I stood before the gateway to darkness last night, the key in my hand and my gaze fixed firmly on the door which most men shrink from in fear. I think I fell asleep still in the same place, and when I woke up three hours later, the illusion had been displaced by another. Above all else, I prize my freedom, regardless of the cost. I have paid in blood and tears to maintain my life as a free spirit, and I can never be chained down against my will. I have spent too long here, each night in silent misery as the man named X scars me that much deeper. I have lost all regard for him, and that is my revelation for this week. I think the cats sense my pain, and for the past few nights they have been a great source of comfort. I cannot remain here, not while the keys are in my grasp. All I have to do is walk up to the doors and extend my hand. Then I can spread my tattered wings and fly away, far away from this place of sweet, addictive horror. I leave my keys behind. There is nothing left anymore.
Unleash the darkness within.

Psychic Heartbreak

I miss you. I'm sorry for everything.
Why don't you come to your senses?
Come down from your fences, open the gate.
It may be rainin', but there's a rainbow above you.
You better let somebody love you, before it's too late.

Psychic Irritation

When the sun is high in the sky, I am very very easily irritated. The slightest thing can set me off. And it seems as though today the world has conspired to drive me round the bend. Everyone's being loud, and not in a musical way. I mean CONCRETE SLABS falling, drilling sounds echoing around my estate, my cursed neighbours moving what sounds like an elephant up there, and motorcycles revving their engines. HELLO? It is SUNDAY! The day of rest, people! I want to SLEEP! The worst part? I wasted a brief storm playing on my keyboard. Inspiration flooded through me, and I sat and played, and now the dark clouds have exhausted themselves and the stupid sun is BLASTING everything to bloody cinders. I might as well be in an industrial-strength oven, it's that hot. *smacks head* It's hot, I'm cranky and sleepy, the entire world seems to have gone mad, and my system is still fighting through last night's toxins. I need a drink, but of course I can't have one because she's at home and the questions will just annoy me further. I WANT A HUGE THUNDERSTORM. Yes I do. Ok, mebbe not a giga-esque one. But a full one. Not some stupid tiny puffcloud masquerading as a thunderhead! It only lasted like what...15 minutes? What kind of storm is that?! *insulted* STOP BANGING AROUND, UP THERE! *curses* I swear they have a whole HERD of elephants up there! I ate last night, but my fluid intake was horribly off. Hence the lightheadedness today, and the irritating thirst, and the general crankiness. Fine. I shall have 1 teensy secret drink, then I shall proceed to rest, NOISE POLLUTION BE DAMNED. *glares at noise-makers* Anyone who disturbs my rest today shall have a new hole ripped for them. I would glare at the sun too, if it would mean not burning holes in my eyes. Stupid world. *slinks away into dark, damp crypt*
If there would be an eclipse for every time I was nice, I'd be an angel.

Psychic Echoes

Around 3 in the morning, I lay down on the cold ground to sleep. A thousand ghosts screamed my name, and I was shaking badly when I crawled away from my corner. Tears collect in my eyes, and I curse myself for all the mistakes I've made, all the wrong turns I've taken in my lifepath. I am safe, for the moment, but that protection wavers. I am protected as long as I surround myself in the world of the living, where fellow humans live and breathe. Their pain masks my presence from her. Will I continue running forever? I am in pain as the night winds down. I think the battle for my sanity is lost. My laughter rings around this empty room, bouncing off cold walls and floors. A thousand spirits, a thousand echoes of the fragmented lives I have led thus far. They're driving me insane. The barriers I've erected against my own mind are crumbling away to nothingness. I need sleep, but it is denied me. I need a drink. A strong, strong drink. But I know if alcohol enters my system, my protection will vanish, and they will come for me. I am so tired of being misunderstood! I wanted to help, really. She nearly killed me for that. Oh God. I am going crazy. Trying to help someone who would have killed me without hesitation. My thirst for freedom and wild, open spaces has faded away. All I want right now is to be safe and warm, and to sleep peacefully without being disturbed by anything, natural or otherwise. Stupid as it is, I want to see J. Or even R, or Z. Z would understand, would laugh softly and murmur soothing words. J would wrap his arms around me, not saying a word, just letting his presence speak for itself. How does one stop an echo? How does one quell a thousand echoes at the same time? How do I silence my mind from all the terrors I have seen and experienced? Dawn is not far off now, and the first of the morning birds have begun their loud chorus. The mists rise thickly from the ground, and an unnatural chill seeps through the walls. As much as I hate heat and light, I want the sun to rise, to burn these phantoms from my being. A temporary exorcism. I'll take what I can get. It's what I've learned after 19 years of trouble. I don't want to hide anymore. From her, from my own mind, from my past. I want to forget everything that has happened to me, silence the echoes of my history, I want peace. I'm so tired of fighting everyone and everything all the time. My defences will hold for today, with dawn being only several minutes away. But come nightfall tomorrow, I must find a safe haven for myself, one where I can sleep undisturbed by phantoms both within and without. I will not spend another night shaking in fear and pain.
Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio;
contra nequitiam et insidias diaboli esto praesidium.
Imperet illi Deus , supplices deprecamur:
tuque, Princeps militiae caelestis, Satanam aliosque spiritus malignos,
qui ad perditionem animarum pervagantur in mundo, divina virtute in infernum detrude.

Psychic Shards

I know how fiery my anger can be, and for half my life I've made it a point to calm myself down before taking action when I'm fired up. Unpredictable things happen when I reach my breaking point. There was the time I was being yelled at by my grandmother at my parents' place. I had just opened my mouth to scream at her, when there was a loud bang and sparks flew out of the doorbell speaker on the wall behind her. The whole room was plunged into darkness, and my aunt was shaking with fright when she lit the candles. I didn't move the whole time, glaring at the entire family.
Today, a similar episode played out. I was furious (moodswing. Don't bother asking.) and I was holding a pair of cups in one hand, and an open bottle of chilled water in the other. Phoebe and Elina were looking at me, and Phoebe asked me why I wanted her to leave the sheets on the table. Irritation flooded through me, but I said quite calmly, "Because of this." And water exploded out of the bottle's mouth, drenching my hand in icy water. The girls fell silent, and heat rushed up to my face and neck. I am sorry that I lost my temper with Phoebe, who is usually the sweetest girl around, and I'm terribly afraid that one of these days, the shards of my emotions will wound an innocent bystander. I have to admit, though, that these incidents are quite cool in their own freakish way. I don't want explanations, nor will I attempt to offer you one of my own.
Speaking of shards, my mum messaged me late this afternoon, but I was fast asleep. She asked me to call her back ASAP, but when I did, my dad picked up. After a few awkward moments of skittering around polite conversation, he told me she wasn't in and I hung up. Sometimes, I wish I could tell people what I really feel. Hard to believe, isn't it? I have a strong command of the English language, but three words defeat me completely. It takes too much of an emotional effort for me to connect to my aunt, to my fathers, even to certain friends. I was on the verge of telling M about J a few moments ago, during our nightly conversation. I was seriously teetering on the edge of a colossal emotional explosion. But in the end, I took a deep breath, swallowed my words and allowed M's attention to drift.
All these shards will cut me to shreds soon. I won't run. I won't fight back. I'll just stand where I am, close my eyes, and allow the inevitable to take place. I can feel his breath on my neck, and I know it's only a matter of time before I surrender to his dark embrace. My mind is already drifting, and tonight, for the first time in many nights...I will sleep deeply. The stars shall watch over me, and the half moon will attempt to slice her way through the heavy clouds forming around her, threatening to choke her when she is so terribly weakened. *sleepy* I don't know what tomorrow will bring, but I would like for some peace of mind, if only for a few hours. Just to ensure my continued sanity.
I'll hold the shards at bay for you, but I can't hold them off forever.

Psychic Quiscence

I'm headed for a breakdown. Hence the decision to run back home and seek comfort in my piano, pull from the wellsprings of peace that I have known for half my life. I don't think anyone can quite comprehend the fact that silence drives me crazy. Passivity does not suit me well. I tend to go into hibernation when I am not actively doing anything. Hearing her words of comfort only served to increase my agitation, although I'm not sure why. "Things will be fine, don't think so much." Perhaps it is the knowledge that things will never be fine between us. Terence only aggravated the situation during our conversation. He called me twice, and while hearing his voice made me smile, the things we talked about made me want to drop my phone and run. I am convinced that I will be left alone and penniless. *grits teeth* I'm slowly going insane, and nearly out of mind with frustration. *screams* The calm and stillness that people have come to associate with me is merely an illusion. I'm kicking and screaming in my mind. *curses* I'm going home tomorrow. A family that eats together, stays together. Cliches be damned.

Psychic Gift

I realise, as I stand under the dome of the heavens with my arms outstretched and my eyes tightly closed, I am a child of the universe. I have as much right to be standing here as everyone else. The stars dust the skies lightly, glittering diamonds that for a moment, seem to be within my grasp. A quiet voice speaks from within me. "Don't give up." A voice that, for the moment, silences everything else and I feel hope welling up inside my heart. The fires of my passion have been momentarily doused over the past week, leading to my increasingly erratic moods and temperaments. Today a quiet sort of calm descends upon me, and I feel cradled in the arms of Night, my old friend. The piano calls to me softly, and I find myself reaching out for it instinctively. My fingers long for the cool feel of the ivories. I have made a tough decision recently. My sister wants to take the family piano with her, and when she asked me if she could have it, I couldn't say no. My siblings very rarely ask anything of me, and it makes it that much harder to say no. The piano shall go with them. After all, I think it belongs to them. It is time I moved on and allowed others to do the same. So in the spirit of independence, I shall set out to find myself a new piano. It has taken too long for me to realise that I am constantly under the wing of another. That's no way to learn how to fly, is it, J? The setback I suffered earlier this year, in the form of my aunt's refusal to allow me to move the piano, left me bitter. And as they say, once bitten...
Nevertheless, I shall proceed with my current endeavour to finally be given a chance to prove my worth. It gets old really fast, this black sheep complex. Consider it a really worthwhile investment if I do buy a really good piano. *grins* There are 3 more months left till December. Think I've got a chance to save up to buy myself a piano? I sure hope so. *crosses fingers* I must constantly remember that my goal is to be proficient in my chosen field. Nothing short of the best will do. Time to go scout around pianorooms again. I want a good upright for starters. Maybe when I've got a place of my own to call home...then I'll get a grand. *fixes mind on dream* Time to find me one of those job thingies. =) If all else fails, I suppose Juf at least would welcome me back with open arms. *sigh* THAT would have to be a last resort, though I hope it won't come to that.
the unplayed piano still holds a tune...

Psychic Whisper

I still think of you. The years do nothing to lessen this emotion and its accompanying pain. As the clouds hover gently above me, I close my eyes and remember times long ago, when the world was a brighter, happier place. Not just for me...but for so many other people. Loss pervades this world in ways I can't even begin to describe. Are we all mere puppets for the Fates? Are they so cruel to take without replenishing what was lost? I have tried to regain my former strength, but my emotions are notoriously capricious. I have scorched friends and lovers alike in my quest for solitude, sometimes even without them knowing why I'm so fiery in the first place. Sometimes I need to be alone, but I can't voice that need without feeling inadequate somehow. Other times, I need company desperately to keep my mind away from the darkness that collects in the corners of my heart, yet again...I cannot put that desire into words. Ever felt that way? Like you're standing in front of someone who's willing to extend a hand, and you can't quite say what you need? I feel that way all the time. If I hadn't burnt the bridges...ififif.
The night feels hot and oppressive to me. I've grown accustomed to sleeping with the sun these days. I quite regret my ability to vanish completely from those who seek me out, particularly when they need me. That is why, tonight...as the sandman calls me to slumber, I fight his call to enfold a cherished friend in my warm embrace and whisper words of comfort. Just words...but imbued with emotion and powered by my empathy. Hours of tears, and again...they fall because of love. The romantics will sigh knowingly, admitting another fallen warrior into their ranks, the cynics will scoff, and yet the river of tears flowing for love grows with each day. I have lost count of the days. I dread the day I will be forced into the shackles of normalcy. Only then will the amount of time I have spent pining for J be calculated, by stern men who have no knowledge of what I am capable of. He has proven true to his word. Fall or fly, you're on your own. *sigh* Looking heavenward, I feel a tug in my heart. Faith. It's just a word until you empower it with your beliefs. This is who I am. Impossible in love, impossible to love, in love with everything that I deem beautiful. Music, sound, colours, emotion, the souls of those around me...J. I laugh at the memories now, a bittersweet chuckle that is drawn from the depths of my soul. *shakes head* I have done my part to comfort another fallen soul in the name of Cupid, and though I know the healing will never truly be complete, time will lessen the wounds. The hours have flown past. Am I headed into nothingness? Can I truly become substantial in 2 years, instead of being just a phantom as I am now? I'm tired of living this way, to be honest. Day to day, living with my head in the clouds, being the dreamer. Dreams don't belong in this era, where soot and dust blacken the streets and buildings, and everyone else is determined to strip the Earth bare of resources. People move along too fast for my liking, and change comes along once every few days. Had I one gift, I would like to live forever in one golden moment. First kiss, perhaps. Or that one moment at the bus-stop, when the sun made his hair glow, and I drowned in his eyes, lost in his arms. His quiet whisper of, "Love isn't something you should be afraid of." *closes eyes* Someday, maybe. Till then, I will fall asleep every night with a whispered apology for all the people I've hurt, voluntarily or otherwise, and most especially to J, the boy who taught me about the purity of love.
I swear in the days still left, we'll walk in fields of gold.

Psychic Intrigue

There is a certain allure to a butterfly you just can't catch. Try as you may, hunt as you will...it simply eludes capture. Yet you live your days fantasizing about the capture, and you spend your nights dreaming about that final moment of entrapment. A mindless fever has me in its iron grip. There is...so much that I know I have to accomplish. There is so much more I have yet to do. But all I can do is lose myself in the intrigue of that one butterfly chase. I held it briefly in my hand, before it slipped through my fingers and fluttered away, as all butterflies are wont to do. Seeking out greener pastures, where flowers wave merrily in the breeze, where they can alight and draw greedily from the wells of the Gods, the sweet ambrosia we call nectar. Suddenly, irrationally, I have an urge to label them parasites. Speak not to me of pollination; I know the purpose of these gaudy-winged creatures. Yet...I wonder. Why? Why do we chase what we know can never be ours? Dreams, hopes, aspirations, desires. All these things that weaken us when we fail to achieve the standards we set for ourselves. Most people would read my words, and immediately assume that I'm being pessimistic. I'm not, really. I'm just wondering...in a quiet sort of way...why do we keep chasing our butterflies through flower-filled meadows? What do we do, if we finally catch them? I read a rather intriguing book earlier in the day. Friedrich Nietzsche. A fascinating man, of that I have no doubt. Did he succeed in catching his butterfly? I wonder. A brilliant mind. Felled by his own sword. I have often wondered, if it is the curse of the intellectually-gifted to suffer from madness. I fear that word, more than all the demons in the world. Madness. It is tragic, that insanity seems to stalk genius. It is frightening, to think that our capacity for greatness is counterbalanced by the possibility of lunacy. I still seek out sources of knowledge, words by men of such calibre that inspiration and infinite wisdom are deeply embedded within their published works. If only to reassure myself that there are, supposedly, men of great intellect who have done battle with their inner demons and emerged mentally sound and relatively unscathed by their own minds. Are there such men? I don't know. And that frightens me almost as much as the very thought of insanity. I fear insanity, more than I fear anything else. That is my greatest fear. I spoke briefly to him today, and before he could formulate a reply, I excused myself from the conversation and left. It is the first time that I have turned my back on the most precious butterfly of all in my flower-filled meadow. In my mind's eye, it has crimson wings, studded with fiery rubies, and today marks the first time I put my butterfly-net down and watch one of my own butterflies flutter away. Parasite, my mind whispers yet again as I watch it fly further and further away. The fear I have for my sanity is very real, and I know few can understand this phobia that I have. If so, then I can only say that my illusions have served me well. *stretches* The night is young, but I need my rest for my appointment tomorrow. Perhaps it is only fitting that I expose my secret fears of mental weakness on the eve of my appointment with a state-appointed psychologist. Tell me, do I conceal my innermost fears and feelings? Or do I share it all with a man who will study me coldly and use me to further his understanding of the human psyche? After all, perhaps he is only pursuing his own butterfly. Let him, then. It is a futile effort, and he, as a learned man, should know that some knowledges are beyond the reach of men. *bitter* Certain butterflies you just can't catch, no matter how hard you try.
Called a star's orbit to pursue,
What is the darkness, star, to you?
Roll on in bliss, traverse this age-
Its misery far from you and strange.
Let farthest world your light secure.
Pity is sin you must abjure.
But one command is yours: be pure!
-Fredrich Nietzsche.

Psychic Challenge

Sweeping the cobwebs away from my life. I went home, had a talk with mum and dad. An amusing, touching, deeply moving, and life-altering discussion. They have agreed unanimously that if it is my wish to pursue music, then they will support me whole-heartedly. Three challenges await me. My impending incarceration, and the ensuing fracas. That's one. Entrance into the school of my choice. That's two. And finally...the musical piece that I find so fiendishly difficult to play. It shocks me, how much I have to exert just to get the hang of it. Once the shock wears off, I will glue myself to my instrument and pour my entire being into mastering this one difficult song. If I master this piece within the timeframe I have set for myself, then I know I can overcome future obstacles. This piece speaks to me in ways that very few piano pieces do. It compels me to devote all my time and attention to it, in part because it is so very difficult to play, and yet the knowledge that a fellow musician composed and played this song spurs me on. I have yet to print out the score, but I have tried out the first few bars, and I vaguely know the general flow. It is complex, but so beautiful I cannot bear to leave it unfinished for something as trivial as sleep. What is rest, when a creation of such immense beauty and compelling power has enchanted me so? I have the melody firmly fixed in my memory, and all that remains...is the printout and my final fine tuning. I must master this piece. I will return to my piano tomorrow morning, with the complete score and an unwavering determination to finally test my skills, if indeed I possess any. For now, I will give in to sleep and rest my body, even while my mind remains frenzied over my renewed desire to complete my challenges. The three labours. I suppose I should be thankful that only three stand in my way of success. I suppose other things happened today, but right now, this piece takes up my entire focus.
....and everything is falling into place.

Psychic Insecurity

A sweeping wave of insecurity has washed over me. I drown in the possibilities of what could go wrong if I fail in this. So many illusions at my disposal, so many visions that I can project to hide my true emotions. Should I be cold and uncaring, the dispassionate ice prince? Or should I be warm and sweet and pretend that I have not spent a good portion of my time pining for him? I can imagine the words. "Just be yourself." Right. I must have been crazy to have agreed to this. Regardless of the smokescreens I put up, I know he will see right through them. Panic courses through my veins like a slowburning fire. It starts from my abdomen, creeping up to my chest, and then circling my neck. I have faced about a hundred demons, but I cannot face my mortal lover. *sighs* The insecurities rise from me like an intangible cloak, enveloping me in darkness. I wonder if years from now, I will still fall on both knees before this mortal man, a slave to his every whim. That thought frightens me senseless. I am afraid, yet also filled with hope. Hope that he will heal the deep wounds I have sustained since our bitter parting. Bitterness crushes that hope almost immediately. Will I stand by and allow him, one mortal man, to best me yet again and lacerate my heart even further? I think it tragic, that those who love so deeply are so terribly scarred by this treacherous emotion. Even more tragic that insecurity causes us to push the people we love far away from us, because we fear they will leave us eventually. *shakes head* Caution shall dictate my every move, then. From here on, I will be cautious and guarded. I must not allow emotion to overwhelm and weaken me again. I am still undecided, and aware that I can vanish at any moment without fear of consequence. There is nothing secret about this anymore. My ability to disappear completely is one of my more maddening traits, for my companions at least. For once, I await morning. I shall lie down in my corner now, and dream of sepia-toned memories.
Gabriel, stand with me as I battle the great demon Regret.

Psychic Pull

A soft tugging in my mind, a psychic call. I know I have not gone home for over a month, and that my links to that place have begun to decay. The sun vanishes behind dark clouds as the hottest hour approaches. I am cool in my dark room, and my emotional tempest has died away to nothingness, as I predicted it would. I have errands left unfinished over the weekend, sheet music to be printed out, my silent vow to give my piano a grand goodbye before it leaves me forever. Today was supposed to have been that day. I fully intended to have gone over in the morning, emotions tightly caged and sealed, and played my heart out until nightfall, when the ousting winds would then tug me home. The hours creep past, and I am still undecided. My throat is sore, and I am seized with a sudden irrational fear that blood will once more stain my lips. *waves hand* These are mortal worries, mortal fears, and I have no use for them. My brain feels slow and sluggish, as though I am dreaming, and it feels as if I am thinking through a thick, heavy fog. The quiet pull still affects me, and I am torn between my conflicting desires. The veins of my left arm burn lightly, and I wonder detachedly if it means anything. I have half a mind to never leave my tower ever again, and remain here for as long as I can, before life drags me kicking and screaming back into the fray. The rabid panic and desperation of last night have evaporated from me, dispelled like morning mists before the sun's golden rays. It feels as though I have conquered an entire army without having moved a single step. I refuse to go back penniless. I will only step out once my accounts have reaped the rewards of my hard work over the past month. I know the dark shields are revolving around my self once more, hiding me from the world as I slip away. J has left me to fester in this hellhole where he once battled my demons for me, held me close and infused me with borrowed light. That light dims, as the distance between us grows ever larger. My heart still calls out to him periodically, but I think he has grown immune to my mental voice. I think I will remain here for the day, until Night draws me out into her cold, dark embrace. My book lies unfinished on the floor, and the blankets have been shredded beyond recognition. They can offer me warmth and comfort no more. I think it fitting. The end of an era, and the beginning of a new one. I know I will need to assume the guise of normalcy, even though I will rebel against my own charade furiously, and find ways to be the best at what I have chosen to live for. My phone keeps ringing, and my contempt for contact swells up within me like a slumbering serpent. I will allow the links connecting me to everyone else to fall into disuse, and eventually wither away. But before that can happen, I must say my final goodbyes to my piano. It is too much to hope for, that they will leave it behind for me when they move out of Singapore. My sole companion over the years, one of the few sources of comfort for me. My face and bearing will not give my emotions away, but the music that emanates from man and instrument, when I lay my hands upon my pianoforte, shall express all that dwells within my full heart. And I have chosen that day. It shall be tomorrow. A Tuesday, and then that chapter of my life will cease to continue. And my search for a 'job', and a worthy piano to replace my own shall commence on Wednesday. Until then...I am allowed to brood over the twists and turns that the Fates throw into our otherwise straightforward lives.

Psychic Schism

The barriers rise up once more. I do not care. No one can be trusted, for they can all leave at any given time. Suffice it to say that my immediate family will relocate to another country, and that I will not be going with them. I cannot trust anyone again. I am penniless, and I will throw myself into my work to stand on my own. But never again will I allow anyone else to wound me so deeply. Call me cold, call me uncaring, but my reasons for being these things are clear only to my eyes. I have no wish to see anyone, and I will brood and contemplate my bleak future alone in my room. I cannot bear to see my shattered dreams cut my heart so. It is stupid. I have always been the unwanted child, the strange boy who speaks of things no one can really understand. I will sit and allow the night winds to caress me, for nature is the only entity who has not hurt me. Even as I cradle my head in my hands, and weep an endless flood for my mortal pain, her beauty surrounds me, soothing me. I was stupid to have trusted. When I first came to my mum, I had nightmares. I didn't tell anyone, not even the social worker whose perfumed scent I can still remember. I only spoke of these with Esther, before she too, faded away into obscurity. Is it too much to hope, that someday...I can have someone who loves me without leaving me when I am at my weakest? I abhor weakness. But I am mortal, after all, and therefore naturally needy. It doesn't matter. These crystal drops that silver my fingers, they cannot change what will be. I am afraid. J, when I was homeless three years ago...you came to my aid. I need you now, and your promise to me has never been so clear. "I will never leave you." Did you mean it? Or were you just like everyone else? My tears will not stop, and I know that I will cry again for many nights to come. I kick myself for allowing a false sense of security to lull me into letting my defenses down. I should have saved some money, scrimped and saved. I cannot survive. Inadequacy leaves such a bitter taste in my mouth. I will not forsake the night as I have been forsaken. If the tears fall, at least they will fall in an admirable imitation of the sparkling stars, and I will lie in the palm of night as one of her children. I see no reason why I cannot push everyone away before they leave me. I feel cold as I write these words, but the tears do not cease. Foolish dreams I once had. All dust now. I wander the halls of shadow again, but fear has ceased to burn within my breast, and all that remains is cold numbness. I believe I will feel nothing at all once these rivers of tears run dry.

Psychic Legion

I do not care if I have to face down a hundred demons. I stride into the face of death secure in the knowledge that whatever I lose will be nothing compared to what I have lost: the love of my life. The past two days have seen me cowering in my corner, terrified of the entities who have taken over my sanctuary and made it theirs, their dark auras tainting the peace that I have come to associate with the place. I feared their spiritual attacks, I feared what they could do to my mind. Pain weakened me the last time round, but this time it strengthens me almost to the point of invincibility. My mental blocks against the memory of that night are fading away. The name comes clear as day to me, as do the other details that have previously escaped my attention. I know that even if we get someone to aid us, her dark 'sisters' will be waiting for me. It is my soul they covet, my 'purity', as she viciously told my friends that night I fell. I am not pure, in that she was mistaken. That mistake will cost her, when I march back into my former sanctuary, prepared to do battle. She will not be the last vengeful soul I fight, I know that instinctively. An entire legion of hellish women await me, female spirits of vengeance. They are bolstered by their sheer number, and I by my mortal emotions and spiritual knowledge that have, until now, failed to protect me. They will not fail me again. I was attacked, and this time I shall walk right back into the battlefield without fear. No mortal being has yet to faze me, and I don't see why a spirit, lacking flesh and bone, should have that right. I do not fear the legion that she calls her 'sisters', I do not fear their nameless master, and I do not fear what they can invoke within me. Most of my secrets are secret no more, and I feel righteous anger blossoming out to blanket me like an invisible shield. This shield will hold, because I will it to, but my battle with the legion of demonic females shall have to wait until the sun sets on Sunday. It is the wish of one of my close friends to ask a spiritually wise mortal man for advice this morning, and I will not disappoint her by rushing off to do battle on my own. I am tired of waiting however, of being on the defensive. I am a child of Aries, born under the sign of fire, and I will not wait for this month to pass without going on the offensive. As it is with all of us associated with the element of fire, I am impatient, and hungry for action. I vow to harness my fiery anger to be both shield and sword. Besieged I may be, but blood runs through my veins, while those who have incited my temper are mere shadows, mockeries of life itself. They will flee before my light, and I will ensure that no other man will fall within the grounds of my sanctuary again. If I must fight alone, then so be it. I have life, I have known love, and I will be more than a match for them, if they wish to fight against me. My grudge is against one soul only, but if they choose to stand next to their hellion 'sister' in opposition with me, then they too shall feel my wrath. I fell once, when I was severely weakened by depression and rendered defenseless by alcohol. It will not happen again. I have my protections firmly in place this time, have spent a few days strengthening my mind and body, and I am now fully rested and ready to battle. I will not endanger my friends by forcing them into this fight, because this is my fight and mine alone. It was me she chose to attack, and she drew first blood. But they did protect me when I had given up fighting, and they saved my life. Therefore I will not disrespect them by rushing off bullheadedly into this spiritual battle. If they choose to join me, then so be it. But I cannot wait any longer, because the knowledge that they are still out there is like a thorn in my flesh, and I vow that before the sun rises tomorrow, I will have reclaimed what I know to be mine. A partial moon will gem the night sky tomorrow, but I have my other senses to accomodate for the lack of light. And if nothing else, when they surround me, I will speak of love and after they are done laughing, their souls will remember what they once were, and that they once loved too. Failing that...well. I will dispel them through sheer force of will. The time for fear is long past. I rise to the challenge, and instinct and my own inherent light shall guide me as I fight these unearthly beings. Three words I shall whisper as I step onto my desecrated grounds: Sancte Michael Archangele. Then all hell will break loose. I close my eyes, for now, awaiting sunrise, and our last, desperate attempt to find a man of strong faith to aid us in battle. *shakes head* He will not believe the things we say, but he may change his mind if he has truly devoted his life to the light.
Mortal pain gives me courage. Even in absence, J, you're still helping me.

Psychic Blues

A week passed, then two. By the third week, I can no longer hold out hope that an unnamed angel will return to shield me from the darkness that so often surrounds me. I feel so small, insignificant. A child of the universe. I have been let loose upon the world, with no one to guide me in what I say or do. Perhaps that is why I come across as warped to most people. That is not why I whisper his name tonight, the uncaring breezes snatching my whispers away and scattering them far away from where I sit and stare at the moon. An unnatural chill descends over me, and I fear that when morning comes, I will not be strong enough. I am not good enough. I fell, again and again, and always, there were angels in mortal guises who helped me rise again from the ashes. I have ignored all the issues demanding my attention, with the result that they have now coalesced to form a towering entity composed solely of depressing problems. I wish to run into his arms, his warmth and comfort soothing me wordlessly. He does not need to speak; all he has to do is look at me with those dancing eyes, and I am calm, even as I fall deeper in love with him. And it is true that I love him, regardless of what has happened, or the words that were spoken. It is also true that I have lost him, and that this loss pains me greatly. I tried seeking out old sources of comfort, but time has always been cruel to me. I do not notice his passing, and he mocks me by altering everything and everyone else beyond recognition. I remain the same, even though the years pass...but I forget that everything else changes. A deep sadness envelops me tonight, as I turn away from the light of the moon and confine my wanderings within my empty room. The black and white monstrosity lies forsaken next to me as I type away. My books are neatly packed away, and I am restlessly watching the seconds tick by, closing my eyes as I put everything I have into one last, desperate telepathic call to an angel who has already ascended far away from where I reside. I am so tired of being the enfant terrible. In my mind, as I walked down the reservoir, and she smiled at me, pointed teeth agleam, I thought of Justin. And my self started to glow, as only love's kavach can glow, and I knew then I couldn't be touched, not while I still have love for this boy. It is untrue that my love is false, because it protected me as I walked past shadowed halls and vengeful souls. Yet it is a double-edged sword. It protected me, yes. But it is also the reason why I fell in the first place. It rips me apart, knowing that I, who had sworn to protect him from the harshness of life, could not protect him from myself. It frightens me, to know that I will love him for years to come. Stupid word, love. It amuses me to see it get tossed around so carelessly by people who have never felt its burn, have never felt the depths of that one simple emotion. Yet it also irritates me. They know nothing about the thorns that come with the rose. *sigh* Blues and blacks colour my aura tonight. How can I tell him how much he means to me, and how sorry I am? There is a vast rift between us that I'm afraid I cannot bridge. I am condemned to a lifetime of regret. Undying love isn't all that they make it out to be, eh? *bitter sigh* I pray the sun's light will burn this dark melancholy away from me.
Morning will come, and I'll do what's right.
Just give me till then to give up this fight.