Riding my Demons

A Daily Response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Moonshots

So I am one of those people who will not do anything if I have not got the motivation for it. Sometimes the motivation comes to me in a spur of joy and other times it comes in the form of maintaining adherence to my moral code – in other words, it’s motivated by obligation. But lately, I haven’t had any of that motivation. I haven’t felt that excitement that I used to feel while writing. I no longer feel that sense of joy when I devour the knowledge kindly imparted by others. Whenever I have the motivation to do something, anxiety kills it. And when I don’t have that motivation, I no longer care that I don’t.

I was looking at the moon on my way home yesterday, just enjoying its serene beauty. I remembered the day when I wished that I would follow Armstrong and Aldrin onto the moon. I remembered what I used to feel like. When anxiety and depression hadn’t slam-dunked my dreams into an eldritch ocean of despair. I want those days back. I want those days back. I started to slip further down the slope that I have been dragged down for the past few weeks, and I remembered what I wanted. I wanted emotion. I wanted passion. I wanted anger and I wanted rage. I wanted the burning desire to achieve my goals. I wanted to feel the pain and suffering that urged me to rejoice in those calm  moments. I wanted peace, I wanted tranquillity. What I wanted, was to feel human again.I know I have spoken about this point several

I know I have spoken about this point several times before but this is really all I want. I had someone say that they hate me and that they can never forgive me for what I did. I was caught in a situation that I could lie to get out of, but then my lie would not have been believed. Or I could have told the truth and hurt not just the person whom my words were directed at but also the one who I was trying to keep afloat. My moral code does not forbid lies and deceit. It acknowledges the blissful state that is ignorant and only if one expresses a great enough desire to know the truth of the situation does deceiving them become bad. I believe in freedom. Well, the illusion of it. I believe that we should all be able to live our lives how we choose to so long as that choice does not harm others. I don’t care if you want to agree with this or not, but I would be interested in finding out your reasons for why or why not. I want to feel truly human emotion, yet all I have at the moment is my undesirable reason.

First and foremost, I want to feel human again. In order to do that, there are a few things that I feel I need first. This post is dedicated to that list. Of what I want in order to feel human again. This post is dedicated to the people like me. Those who can no longer fight their demons. Our lives may be short, but that just means that we can concentrate our greatness.  Continue reading “Riding my Demons”


The Masks that we Wear

A Day-Late Response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Surface

This post was initially going to be a bit of a rant about surface people. I don’t consider myself one of them and dealing with them makes me feel unfulfilled. I want depth and intellectual stimulation when I speak to someone and when I converse with someone living on the surface, I don’t get that. No, I don’t believe that I am part of any elitist group of ‘deep’ people. I don’t think anyone is any greater depth than anything else.

No, that’s a lie.

I do think that we have different depths. Yet, in my experience, the deepest people are the most damaged. Maybe there is something about psychological scarring that just prevents us from living a surface life. A life of ease. A life where our greatest issue is the next paycheck coming in on time or our child’s grades. A life where ends meet, but without great ease. A life in which we don’t have to worry about anxiety or depression. Suicide or a stroke. The way others perceive us and whether or not we are ‘acceptable’. Because that is what a lot of us really want. To be accepted. Yet, we don’t fit in with the rest of you. We don’t fit in with you people who are able to smile with ease and genuinely enjoy life to its full. Is it too much to ask for acceptance? Is it too much to ask for stability? Is it too much to ask for a day off from our obligations? Our society? Our world? Our lives?

Here  sit, drugged up, on caffeine, craving for just a day off. A day off without having to worry about what I will suffer from doing so. I am tired. And lazy. Terribly lazy. Like, if I have not got the motivation to do anything then I just won’t. And even then, sometimes it just too much effort.

Well, I guess that kind of did turn into a rant about surface people. What I was going to write was, “I dislike the fact that surface people can live a life without regret, worry, or concern, to the same degree as we scarred people are. I’m not saying that we are anything apart from worse off because we are weaker than you surface people. We are scarred and we are damaged. Just like anyone is. Thing is, that scar affects us more than we can cope with and sometimes, just sometimes, it puts us into a rut that we can’t get out of. And when you surface people tell us to just ‘get over it’. That is when we snap. That is when we lose our ability to maintain control and everything just shatter. I beg of you, surface people, never, NEVER, tell someone to ‘just get over it’.”

And here comes the twist.

Continue reading “The Masks that we Wear”

A Walking Contradiction

Has it really been four days that I was away from here? It sure felt like a lot more. Alas, dear reader, I am back. I am still tired and I am still just as lazy as I was before but at least this time, I am going to be more vocal about it. Normally when life gets too tough I go into seclusion and kick the stuffing out of all that got in my way. This time, I am going to try a different approach. Instead of relying on my own abilities to sort things out I am going to try lug it off onto others to get them to do the work for me. What I don’t like about this is that it means that I can’t adequately say that I am my own person. But even then, I don’t believe that any of us are truly our own person. We are a merger of all that we see around us and our reactions to it is what define us.

I reacted badly to a friend today. I didn’t like that. I said one thing but then countered it with what I said later. I wasn’t consistent. And I value consistency and efficiency. Perhaps because I lack both. Perhaps because I find that they just make things run smoothly and when things run smoothly, I can relax.

So why have I linked this to the prompt Maybe?

Well, maybe it is because I think that things are actually looking up now. Maybe I think I have done what I need to in my little secular state and now I need to branch out and experiment again. So maybe I am going to break out of character and converse with those that I don’t normally speak to. But then again, maybe I won’t. It’s not because I don’t want to, although a large part of it is that. But a lot of it is because I can’t. I’ve tried to walk up to someone and strike a conversation but it just doesn’t work. I can’t take that approach so I’ll have to find another method. One that works. One that allows me to maintain true to my worldview and doesn’t induce mass panic attacks. I can’t fight this thing. I have no way to fight against my demons. I can’t outrun them. That didn’t work. So maybe,just maybe, if I accept them, then I can fight with them.

Someone who I am wanting to try and get closer to told me to just pray. I’ve tried that. I failed at that too. It didn’t work for me. People say that it is because I don’t have unwavering faith in an almighty. I say that all those who do are either lying to themselves or stripping themselves of a large part of their humanity. To be human. This is as much of a pray as I can truly give. A hand offering help. The other asking to be pulled up. My heart crying out for a lover and my mind rejecting all who try.

Being human means to be destructive. To be creative. To be shallow and to be deep. To love and to hate. To reason and induce. To fight and to flee. But most importantly, it’s that we do all of this at the same time. To be human is to be a walking contradiction.

The Beast that Trailed Behind Me

A Hastened Response to the Daily Post’s DailyPromptt: Elusive

I misread this prompt when it appeared in my inbox. I thought it was evasive. So that’s what I am going to write on because that is what I came here to write about. Evasion.

Alright, everybody, listen up here. The stage is set and the theatre is packed! Humphrey, run through the checklist one last time. Martha. All set for makeup. Petyr. All the stagehands present? Actors. * counts the actors * What the – ? Where is Erikson!? Continue reading “The Beast that Trailed Behind Me”

Forged in Flames

I saw this post and I thought that I absolutely had to post this here. This is the first short story that I ever wrote and what inspired me to persevere with writing creatively. I hope you enjoy, and maybe I’ll add bits here and there like I am doing with the Metanoia story.

Daily Response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Burn 

“Great men are forged in fire.
It is the privilege of lesser men
to light the flame.
Whatever the cost.”
– The War Doctor.

Coughing and spluttering, the last sounds Tess heard were the blaring sirens and the screech of tyres outside her door. Her head spinning from the smoke. Her hand on her belly, she could feel her unborn child calling out to her, telling her that the time is now, it was ready to be born. But the thought was too much for her to bear and
she collapsed, in a heap before the door as it splintered open, unleashing a wave of determined firefighters that swarm over her limp body.

Later, at the hospital. Continue reading “Forged in Flames”

The Floundering of a Nervous Wreck

A Daily Response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Struggle

I have seen the views for my present story of Bran Windrider, and I am pleasantly surprised to see it is doing a lot better than I expected, and I have you to thank for that. I know I said that I wanted to add to his story each in relation to the prompt for that day and I even had a really good idea for what I could write about in relation to his struggle. Instead, I am going to offload some of my personal troubles onto you, dear reader, for I cannot summon up enough mental energy to engage in a creative endeavour.

Continue reading “The Floundering of a Nervous Wreck”

The Last Time

Dream Journal 09-06-16

Last night, my dream was so incredibly vivid that it was only when I tried to relive it as a sweet and joyous memory that I realised its impossibility. I have mentioned before that I have affections for a certain someone. I find emotional attachment a very strange thing and , in all honesty, it creeps me out. I have absolutely no concrete idea on how it works. It’s just that I get even mushier around this person. I don’t even know what I want from them beyond acknowledgement and the occasional conversation. Even my affection is a presumption based on my actions around this person. I don’t know how else to tell whether one has an emotional bond with someone or not. Alas, let me not bog you down with the dreams of a hopeless romantic. This is a dream journal after all and I shall get forth to my dream now.

Continue reading “The Last Time”