ra1ne's Blog

I imagined a landing, perhaps a concrete slab with re-bar protruding on all four sides, floating in the vastness, the blackness of nothingness. I had constructed this platform out of desperation, as an internal solution towards free-falling into the abyss itself and as I stand in this world with you and them, I look inward at the nothingness and the crudely constructed structure intended to support myself, feeling depleted of life and left with the haunting echo of dulled memories. I am vaguely aware of how it was to be able to feel, to think but, apathy resides, numbing my will to be anything but dispassionate.

It is unsettling that this seems to be all that's left of me, along and a few momentarily useless fragments. I honestly don't know who I am anymore. I've spent my entire life being a contortionist of sorts; I'm used to being what everyone else needed me to be. Now, in order to continue forward, I've had to let go of most of everything I had become, all of my grievances and the things I deemed as injustices, so that I could have the chance to discover myself, who I really am and not just mirroring the expectations of others.

This blog is intended for this purpose, a means of self-discover. Having been a ghost writer for some time now, under the belief that I wasn't truly talented enough to embrace such an endeavor, I now use it to try and reach through to me - the writer trying to find her ghost. I know there is an artist and a writer somewhere within me and I feel my soul as a dancer with sensuality and passion but, these things, my fragments, are lost in the the nothingness, unreachable like stars in the cosmos.

This has been the most unbearable two years of my life and so many things have happened, piled up on each other without chance in sorting through or adjustment. I plan on revisiting these things, sorting them once and for all. I'll likely write of them here and then release them properly, instead of exiling them. To find a resting place for the past and a birthing place for the future, this is my aim. I can not continue to float aimlessly in disinterest, no matter how safe it appears to be. Safety is not freedom. It is time to liberate myself and build myself upon the landing.