Refusal to Sink Despairs Depths

You are not alone. Cliche, no? But right now, during the Christmas season, I know many of us are fortunate enough to know the warmth and love of family or friends. But I know that's not all of us...

"But I have nobody! I'm alone! Not family! Not friends! Not even a mouse! You lie!" I don't.

You have yourself. Through all those hard times, who's feet is it that moved you forward? Who's iron-bound will was it that pushed you to trudged on through the storm? Who is it that greets you in the mirror every dawn? Who is it that encourages you to eat when your stomach knows nothing but grief? It is you!

Rejoice in yourself. In your existence. Like a building crescendo, or a rolling wave on the ocean, you are building towards something beautiful. The finalized product of your internal alchemy is an ever ongoing work. It will boil, freeze over, turn bitter and undoubtedly sweet. But you must love all the same. Love yourself, all the same.

After all, these trials make us who we are. And we are all, beautifully, disgustingly, wonderfully, awfully, human.

Rejoice friends!

The truth was far simpler. I didn't want anyone. I didn't want help. I didn't want words of solace. I didn't want light. I wanted to complain, to be left alone to ROT. But what we want rarely ever aligns with what we need. After so much loss, loss of myself and others, I started my metamorphosis.

But just like that of the caterpillar it is not pretty. You are broken down til you've nothing but nerves, will, and intent. The things you were liquifying and being repurposed. And whilst I'm still rebuilding myself but by bit, I know the end result will be something better. I've no choice but to do so.

Drown in The Deep, or Rise Above.

I held a wordless conversation with myself. A mirror image in an ocean too vast to comprehend. But there on the shore I sat, staring out. I could hardly look into the water, I ached from a pressure all over. My eyes stung with the salt of tears...

I stared downwards, I saw my reflection. But, I looked beneath it. I'd been feeling quite blue recently. Remorseful. ...even mourning. Not things I wallow in often.

But as I stated I noticed something. The water wasn't reflecting my sorrow, rather, I was the one, diluted, and below the surface. The pressure being the weight of the ocean, the salt and tears from the water I tried to stare out from. The me, the me that is not quick to wallow in myself, frowned at me, slightly. I understood then what I was. Let myself sink slowly again, and when I opened my eyes, I'd found myself sprawled out on a dark beach. The sky was still grey, the sand a murky black, the lighthouse behind me still monochrome... But, the grey was more blue. The black had swirls of brown. The paint took on strange hues that were not so binary. I was seeing again. Truly seeing. It feels nice again. I feel, better. Still weighty. Soggy. Cold. Unpleasant things. But, nothing not easily remedied.

My own spark being stomped on, drowned, smothered... Yet I always found another with a little less. It hurts to give up part of which makes you burn... But that which was so freely given to me, must be freely given to those who need it. Kindness is difficult. It is often never met with a reward, save for blistered hands and a broken back. But it is always worth it. If not for how it shapes the world then for how it shapes us.

Cruel hands may have shaped me, but they were never allowed to define me.

I'm not sure which I like more but I like the idea of using nature as a shrine or reminder for the old things that the world no longer has words for. Whether they be God's or magic or anything else your imagination can think of.

The serenity of the snow and bitter cold only adding to this sense of awe I felt when I first saw it. My imagination running wild and thinking of things that could require such a simple, but divine looking altar. Or perhaps I'm just mad.

Regardless, I hope all's well 'n seven bells.