#anonymouswriting

On a day which was dreary,I found something very leary.It was a blue bound diary,which I guess belongs to a fairy. As I scrolled across its pages,Its lines took me through several ages,definitely it’s not for saints and sages.but for the unquenched, locked up in cages. I don’t have any idea about its author,all I know that’s the least thing to bother,from all the signs that I could gather,it’s…

It’s amazing how fickle-- how fleeting-- progress is. 

It’s achieved by climbing mountains, battling ghosts and slaying demons.

Lost by a sideways glance, an unreturned message, a stiff breeze. 

When that loss occurs, my hope is that it won’t last long. My hope is, like a mouse in a maze, I will find my way back to the cheese all that much faster-- that I won’t have to relearn all of the steps that got me that far and that I will may my way again. 

My hope is that my heart grows stronger--not harder-- so that next time, it take more than a slight breeze to blow me off course. 

But right now, I am in a cyclone. 

There’s something so satisfying about a new beginning: a new page, a fresh start-- with infinite possibilities stretched before you. 

There’s something terrifying about it too: abandoning everything you’ve known up to this point, effectively starting back at square one. 

But, you must start somewhere. And even if it isn’t everything you had hoped it would be,

Anim na letra, isang salita

Simple pero may kakaibang pandama

Isang salita na mahirap makuha sa iba

Isang salita na kapag nawala...

Mahirap nang ibalik pa

Napaka simple ngunit ang laki ng epekto

Sa isang taong sumira nito

Nakakapangsisi dahil isang pagkakamali mo lang...

Mawawala na ito.

Patawad... dahil ang tiwalang ibinigay mo ay nasira ko

Ang tiwalang ipinagkaloob mo ay nawala dahil sa isang pagkakamaling nagawa ko.

Hindi ko sinasadya, oo... ngunit alam kong hindi pa sapat ito.

Thursday, May 6th, 2016 3:34 p.m. Somewhere Safe, Ga, USA

Sitting here, now, at my family’s business, I’m trying my best to concentrate. Looking into the kids faces, all I can think about is the annoying pain in my limbs and………….and the……..I’m not even sure what to call it.

I keep thinking about the tea I was drinking. About the mint that swirled around my nose hairs and the lemon that drew ever more saliva as it danced across my tongue. I keep thinking about the bitter taste of the herb as I inhaled standing in the morning sun, my morning ritual, preparing my fibro pain riddled body for the day. I’m remembering closing my eyes and hearing the sound of an………….. owl?

Out of all the mornings I’ve spent in my parent’s townhomes’ backyard, I had never heard an owl before. The sparse pine trees that lined the back gate was hardly the home of the nocturnal aviators, especially with stores with bright lights sitting directly behind them so you may color surprised by hearing the sound. I opened my eyes and scanned the skyline of the trees for their familiar form, but to no avail, so I turned my attention back to my tablet resting on the plastic picnic table no one really ever uses. Just as I began to scroll through my facebook timeline a single, what I thought was a dead leaf, slowly fluttered onto my screen.

As I slowly exhaled the long drag I had just taken off my joint, I bent slowly to take a closer look at it. I could tell upon closer inspection, that it was infact a wing, a soft, delicate moth’s wing. It’s pattern was absolutely captivating as it looked just like the eye of an owl; with just the thinnest pencil line of pale blue, ringing the dark chocolate circle that made up the inner eye. As I turned it over in my fingers, an almost metallic powder begin to coat the prints of my digits, just then I heard the owl’s call again; but it seemed to be coming from behind me, which was virtually impossible, as my back was against the house.

Suddenly, more and more wings began to fall; too many to count, and too many to see through, as they fell the owl’s call got louder and louder and the wings fell faster and faster and my nose became overwhelmed by the smell of cigarettes……………..

All I knew next, was that I was sitting on a bed. In a room. A room I’ve never seen before. The walls appeared to pillars, holding up a vaulted ceiling. The walls, a deep, dark peach color, illuminated by two peach lamps that stood in opposite corners of themselves. Thick curtains hung from golden clawed rods, covering over what I could only imagine were the windows..

The smell of cigarettes hit my nose hard again as I realized that I wasn’t alone. Sitting right in front of me was a man. He sat, slowly dragging on a cheap cigarette, eyes half closed, an almost empty bottle of scotch sat on the table next him; single malt, a ‘72. His expensive white botton-down shirt, lay bloody across his hairy chest. The only hair he seemed to have. As I looked around for a tie, I noticed that he was staring………at me? Slowly realizing how afraid I was becoming, I shifted slightly to see if he would move………..he didn’t.

Just then I finally heard the raspy symphony of struggling breaths coming from behind me………. I slowly tuned to see that I was sitting right in between the legs of a woman. She was bound, naked, by her hands and feet, stretched out into a spread eagle pose. Her blood covered breast heaved like groaning mountains with each of her attempts to breath; I could see the red silk fabric of what I assumed was the man’s missing tie, wrapped tightly around her neck. I turned back to the man realizing that he wasn’t looking at me, but through me…………at her.

My fear begin to drain away as I was invaded by a certain, sudden feeling of satisfaction. I felt, fulfilled………..and incredibly………aroused. Staring at the man, I began to realize that what I was feeling was not my own feelings but his. I looked away, feeling like I need a breath, only to begin to feel pressure on my chest, as I struggled to breath, I felt something wet fall from my nose on to my chest. It was blood. I looked at the woman as her fear and pain encapsulated me. Her feelings and the feelings of the man swirled inside of me and clashed, making me feel greatly distressed and deeply nauseous. The room begin to spin around me and the sudden loud surprise of the owl’s call filled my ears once again…….

I awoke to the feeling of the joint beginning to burn a whole through my jogging shorts. I jumped up, realizing I was now sitting down, back outside of my parents’ home when I had just been………..I don’t even know where I had been…. What had happened? I almost chalked it up to me having a bad dream when I realized I was still holding the moth wing in-between my fingers……….