I was thinking that I needed a less popular place to vent. I've taken a lot of heat over the years for some of my posts on Delphi Blogs so here we are again.
You Guys were sent the link because I trust you all. Really, even you Bear. This is a pubic Blog so eventually it'll be out there, so don't feel like it has to be a state secret. I just need offa Delphi for now.
I may still Blog on that account, use both for now so don't be expecting any great profound posts. Unless you make them.
Love you all
Going to post some older stuff on this entry from previous blogs.
This is from 2008.
A random light
I saw the light up ahead, it flickered and looked all the more intense for the darkness that surrounded it.
I wondered what I should do. There's supposed to be nobody on this Island, save me. I wondered why after all this time I should see a light, a beacon in my darkness.
I'm afraid, I'm ecstatic, I'm expectant. Will I be able to go near the light? Announce my presence? Or, would I hunker down like the animal I've become; saying nothing, hoping it disappears and and leaves me to my life. However small and insignificant it's become, it's all I have that's mine, this life.
I thought back to my first days on this Island, time has since become meaningless. I fear all I remember is the day to day, the hardscrabble existence I have here on this Island. Try as I might, I cannot remember how long I've been here. Five years? Ten? More?
I wondered what I should do. Who or what is behind the light? Friend? Foe? Family? Are any of them still alive, five or ten years since I've been on this Island? Do they wonder about me? Where I went, how I'm doing? Do they even care?
The light has stopped pulsing it's now a constant brightness, I think I hear voices. Not the regular voices in my head, my constant companions, but new, stronger voices, coming from the light.
What is the light, I wondered, is it here to take me away? Is it here to end my time on the Island? To extinguish my light in order to shine brighter?
I've been crawling down the beach, nearing the light. It's no bigger, no brighter, it's just there; just ahead.
I think back to my first days on the Island, the pain, the uncertainty, the dreadful feelings of hope. It's wrong to have hope on this Island, there's nobody here, save me. Hope is for fools and dreamers, this Island doesn't allow dreams, or suffer fools.
I crawl and scuttle like a rat, a wild thing, crawling toward the light. I'm eager for the voices to separate themselves, to make sense.
Maybe they never will I thought. Maybe I can't understand anymore. Maybe what I think is only a made up shorthand in my head, just for this Island. Have I forgotten to understand? To speak? To be human? I'm frightened.
The surf is loud in my head, the night birds are screaming, the light is shining and I'm no longer human. I'm a creature of the Island, of the darkness, like a moth to a flame. I need to know what the light is. I need to see and hear and feel the light.
Finally, I'm close enough to reach out and touch the light. I realize that there are no longer any voices coming from the light. It's just me and the light on this Island. I stretch out my hands to touch the light, and it's gone. I leap up in a panic, I search frantically. but there's no light.
Was there ever a light? I must be crazy, too much time on the Island. Has it been five years? Ten? Longer? I cry and I curse the random light. The light that gave me hope, gave me fear, and a purpose for being on this Island, in this neverending darkness.
The Island doesn't allow hope, the Island doesn't allow dreams, the Island is me.
Have I ever told you about Doubtful Manor? This is a place that I use regularly. Like a time-share, only this is my unhappy place. When I lived in The Dad's home, I frequented Doubtful Manor a lot. I'd go there, 'cause I was fat, lazy and a blathering idiot. I'd go to Doubtful Manor, because I could be the person The Dad said I was.
Doubtful Manor is a sad place. The wiring flickers, the plumbing is old and I'm usually knee deep in shit. The carpets are stained, the floors warped, the roof leaks. Doubtful Manor is just good enough for a lazy, stupid, fat reject like me. In Doubtful Manor, every day is a bad hair day, every day the roaster is soaking in the sink. When I'm in Doubtful Manor, no one can reach me, no one comes to visit and no one calls. Total isolation, all the pain and remorse I can handle and then some.
I don't go to Doubtful Manor a lot these days. I only need to go there the odd time, the odd day. Well today I spent the afternoon there. Nothing has changed, the yard is still weedy and the cat box needs to be cleaned. I went to Doubtful Manor today because it's Friday April the 13th. The day The Dad was born. Usually I can see The Dad from the asbestos filled attic of Doubtful Manor. Not today though, he wasn't there.
Instead I saw a black cloud over a dear dear friend who is ill. Can I be the friend she needs? Can I be the friend that drops everything in a hearbeat and goes to her? Will I have the strength to hold her up when all she wants to do is fall? I think I can. Now from Doubtful Manor, I see my dear friend with her loved ones and family dancing under a rainbow. I can do this, she can do this, Doubtful Manor can bite me, and burn the hell down.