I have this longing. This deep desire to know the unknown, to achieve the unthought of. A need to establish a hold on a life no one knows, or even cares about. I want to be someone no one thought I’d be.
I have an urge to explore the past. I hold a curiosity for the future. The present is meaningless. I have a need for companionship; for someone or something to fill this pit in myself, a pit that makes itself felt everyday.
I have an urge to discover no limits, to find things never found, to believe in things that haven’t been believed. A necessity to find a normal paranormal. A need to achieve the impossible, but not the unattainable.
I have a hope beyond all hopes. There are dreams I’ll never let go of; imaginations and fantasies I can only pray for to come true, raging within my mind and soul. Maybe not in this life, but maybe, just maybe, in another I’ll be able to hold them for eternity. I feel anything could come true if you believe in it strongly enough.
Whether it be on earth or in heaven, or in some other, as of yet undiscovered land; whether it be in this life or another, this time or space; whether it be in a known or unknown body or form; it is there, and I believe.
This is my reality, my soul and being. Welcome to my hell, or life, if that is what you would call it. All I can do is wait and see what becomes of it, what is planned to happen. This is how I live, each day wondering and longing for something nothing but an end, an eternity of darkness could give me. This is what I hope for each day, a beginning, an end, a life.
Pain and despair may seek me out, may will me to give in to death, I try not, but eventually resistance is futile. I will be what I’m destined to be, to become. All my life I’ve longed to be a part of something uniquely special. Everyday I wish for someone to take me seriously just for once, to be there for me no matter what, and not to think I’m crazy, delusional, in a “phase,” or just making a joke. I’m not. This is my life, my reality, my being, and my soul.
Beyond all hope of a return, all hope of a real life, I feel numb to the world, as if none of it matters. My soul has been molded to accept this as who I am, and to love it for its power. This is something stronger than all else, this is eternity. I am what people never thought possible, a survivor, but a desperate soul, grasping at something people think impossible.
My reality is what other people would call fantasy. To me it is real, always and eternally. This is my darkness, my friend, the one thing that is always there for me no matter what. All things of the night I belong to and adore. They keep me safe, protect and comfort, love and destroy. So this is what it’s come to, shying away from all things good and running to those of the night, seeking sanctuary.
Why is it, if light is good and dark is evil or bad, that the dark accepts and embraces all creatures, of the night or light, and the good only takes those in of the light and kills the creatures of the dark, destroys them, and ruins their souls and beings. The dark loves and holds all precious, no matter what they have done or who they are. And yet the light only holds those who are supposedly clean of “sin,” those who love and cherish the light. Why is this? And what exactly is “sin,” anyway? Who determines what is right and what is wrong? Isn’t “sin” basically a perspective of what is expected? It makes no sense.
My life is the night. My loyalty goes with the darkness. It is who I am; who I want to be, eternally. Forever is a long time, but not as long as death, my love, not as long as the death of a soul. *That* is eternity in hell. Souls traveling and living, changing form and experiencing, seems quite lovely compared to what I have now. To live eternally in a life of darkness would be heavenly. To be one forever with the night, for a release of rules and self, to be always, to have many experiences in an eternal darkness, in just as many bodies or forms, would be the ultimate survival.
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