A Little Piece of Irony ~ What Are Your Thoughts?
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Diabolist (91)
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Member of Sete Diabolica (Coven)
Vampire Rave member for 8 years.
07:50:43 Jun 13 2021
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Mind you, I have already put this in my journals, but I figured "why not ask others' thoughts on the matter?"... so, here we are;

I had something... ... somewhat "funny" in my eyes brought up to me by the man who claims himself my "father", to-night. Something that only reminds me of the numbskulls that both caused it to happen, and claimed I shouldn't have even lived through it all (let alone walked away).

Death, of all things...

Now, I understand that for most people, dying and coming back, or having a "near death experience" (otherwise called "NDE"), gives a person a new take on life; as some might say, "reminding you of how precious life really is, and giving you a new appreciation for it".
Well... not necessarily so, in my case.

You see, in all the time that I have walked this earth (which, I'm not joking when I say I've lost track of that time), I have quite literally walked through things that, even in most works of fiction, a person should not (and likely wouldn't) survive. And trust me, I don't talk about these things to "brag" about it (as I have stated before, in my journals). Instead, I talk about them for the sole purpose of trying to remind others of the simple fact that no matter how "black & white" life appears to be, at the very *minimum*, there is, and always will be the "gray area".

Only in the past two decades, I have endured things that would end the life of anyone else I have ever known (even the strongest of them).
I have been shot (several times),
Stabbed and literally gutted like a trophy animal,
Slashed to pieces,
Impaled (at least twice),
Burned alive (again, at least twice),
Hung with things that don't need to be used for rope,
Run over and thrown into the air by numerous makes of vehicles,
Mauled (and yes, I mean by a bear),
Practically eaten "alive" by what they call "death on eight legs",
Poisoned with everything from concentrate venom to cyanide,
A hatchet blade fully embedded in my skull...

{{And all of this is just over the past twenty years or so.}}

Many of these things, from which, I still have the scars (both psychological and physical). And from nearly all of them, I can tell you that it wasn't just "NDE", but that I actually fully "died". Now, I already know that a lot of people are going to read this and simply dismiss it as "pointless banter of a nut". That is, unless you're one of those who has seen me (even if, more so, on here, that anything) before and thus, you are familiar with me. But the idea of that is neither here nor there (and I honestly could not care less, either).
But one thing that gets me about all of this is something very ironic, in my opinion; a few years ago, I was interviewed by a fairly esteemed writer, named Angela Smith. This woman had asked me a series of questions that j found a little more similar to the book "Interview with the Vampire", but at the same time, I decided to turn it to a slightly differing direction. One of the questions she asked me is "how long have you lived (or been a vampire)?"
Now, obviously, for most, this question would be one of two things; either straight forward, or a little tricky. It usually depends upon who the vampire is (or at least, amongst the alleged "community"). But for me, this was initially a tricky one, because unlike some... I can truthfully tell you that I wasn't always a vampire. But again, I'm veering off topic.

There was a movie playing a couple hours ago, that he thought put tbe idea of Death and Appreciation of Life into perspective (or at least, to him, it might).
Now, the reason I say that for Me, not so much, is actually fairly simple:

The first one or two times you die, yes, I suppose it would bring you to see another perspective. But after that, you begin to wonder. Especially when you have (nearly or completely) died for a Third time... I have to say, you kind of begin to lose that "appreciation for living", and it begins to turn into a sense of "what the Hell have I done to deserve this?"...

Especially when you have walked for so long, trying desperately to believe that there is something out there "higher than any force of nature or man", that supposedly governs whether you live or die... in all honesty, you start to question whether that "something" actually is real or even has such power... and furthermore, you begin to wonder if there is something else - something other than what you try to believe in - thag for so long causes you to basically defy the laws of reality, and thus, essentially, turning that said "reality" into something that pushes even the lines of fiction to the limit.

When I first joined the Rave, and I made a point of letting people know of the things I have survived (and yes, that includes the telling of me becoming a vampire, quite a long time ago), I recall a handful trying to "call me out", as they say, for "claiming to be something so 'fringe' on an already 'fringe' website".
Well, let me be the first one to make it loud and clear that, when it comes to a world "so black & white" as so many see it, if you really think that what I make "claim" of is "so fringe", then you have no idea what "fringe" or "reality" really are.
What most people consider "fringe", I have come to terms with as existence, in general. There is no such thing as "fringe", when you have already walked through the gates of death and "lived on" to tell of it (Hell, for that matter, you end up even losing all fear of death or even the pain or suffering that comes prior to it). However, it also leaves you with a strong lack of "connection" to life, itself (and a big sense of apathy, to boot).

Now, the reason I say I find the whole thing "funny" in a way, is because while I may not look much different from the day I first came here, or the day I met my former fosters, over all this time, I have had to ploy one hellishly big illusion, pulling a wool (so to speak) over the eyes of countless people, time and again. Only a very few have ever seen past the guise and saw the Real me (which, in most cases, that wasn't a good thing). Yet, the one thing I could never seem to hide or disguise is that, "for some reason", no matter what is done to me, I just don't seem to die. In fact, I only seem to get stronger with each passing incident.

I don't know about anyone else (that "anyone else" being you who read this), but these things being brought up, by someone who claims "family" and yet knows with their entire being that they are and have always been TERRIBLE "family" (if that is what they are twisted enough to claim), and then watching that person's jaw nigh hit the floor... one would think that would put things into perspective for both sides, or at least leave one party with something perhaps a little "disturbing" to think about.

This long and short being said; what would be your take of the idea of death, and the "appreciation for life"? Do you lean on it, like a crutch? Or do you use it as a sense of "fuel" go add to your own life?

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