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Quote: You must kill the spider to get rid of the cobweb.
SuicideKiss.com
I am here by choice…I feel release to write my deepest and innermost working upon this page….a cacophony is shrill inside my head…my life blood was drained eons ago and is recognizable only in stains on footpaths to nowhere….
A chaotic whirlpool of emotion defines my existence…I have watched in wonder as my life has progressed over the years…I have traveled to dozens of countries, I have spoken with people from all walks of life and cultures, I have researched the scientific, literary, and historical references upon which civilization is supposed to rest….and yet I have no answers. I am an enigma to myself…opaque to introspection. I must be less than a sum of the observed parts can be the only explanation…
I feel I have been with this life forever, I have grown weary and sad with the journey…and yet each day I arise and feel as if there might just be something to wait for…what that something is, I cannot articulate, nor can I imagine…
If definition requires context then I have been: a human, a female, a mother, a student, a divorcee, a scientist, a wraith, a business owner, a writer, an estranged daughter, a warrior, a lost child, a victim, a doctor, an assassin, a fatherless little girl, a teacher, a headline, a heartless bitch, a tired middle aged women, a thin person, a failed suicide, a penitent, a criminal, a savior, a slave, an enforcer, a prostitute, a supplicant, a gambler, an angel, a heavy drinker, a moralist, a lover, a patient, a hater, a master, a destroyer of lives, a rescuer, a philosopher, an autocrat, a socialist, a fighter, an obstacle, a redeemer, a god, a demon…. a wave upon an endless sea who will ripple forever into oblivion….
Pain is my closest companion…no farther than my nearest thought, yet intangible, featureless, and unknowable…tugging on my deepest emotions yet as ephemeral as light mist on a summer day….it has forged my heart into a numb biological necessity that can instantaneously be transformed into a torrent of tears at a single word….
I desire nothing, yet cannot force myself to relinquish the most basic of potential illusory possessions…life…when finding beauty I embrace it until it expires in my steely embrace…I bleed it dry…soaking its essence into myself and dissipating its unity into meaningless eddies of decaying energy… when finding ugliness I am transfixed on it to the point it overtakes me…all illusion
Convergence is something I can never experience…I am destined to remain an unobserved wave, even to myself…never to collapse into form….yet I careen into obstacles and through passages in gratings that have no boarders…I am beyond the eigenstate.
I am…..that I cannot speculate or hold in any certainty…”I” is merely something buzzing about this consciousness at risk of extinction at the slightest of moves…outside the “I” is even less certain or stable….
Safety…security…love…illusions beyond logic; present only to distract from the rending of the soul in the furnace of the present…..despair, desolation, disintegration, decay, decay, decay………is the alpha and omega
The soul…dispersed like chafe before a demonic wind blowing without direction…chaos knows no other
I have never been, I will never be…..nothing
How do I REALLY feel….I have been beyond the reach without recourse for safe harbor…I have been held tight and had loving words cooed in my ear, and into my soul…only to be incinerated in a slowly heated chamber….I have been held as a beacon of love…only to be extinguished by cold dark waters carried by men I laid myself bare to….I have been caressed…only in preparation for scarification….I have been supported…only in preparation for freefall….my heart has been buoyed up…only to be shredded by a maelstrom of glassine shards…it survives at a stop at zero Kelvin…knowing not even the passage of time
Below is my story…above is my reality
Crystalline Purpose
Evil, good, wickedness, nature…chaos. Within my impenetrable heart lays a venomous snake, coiled barely breathing awaiting the time she will be roused to activity…a time when she will unfold herself in the swirling storm clouds of emotion, yet all the time remaining coolly detached with crystalline icy perfection…she will wash eons of dust from her scales in seething black whirlpools of the unfathomable depths…her fangs will strike with unpredictable precision in the flashes of lighting, her voice will be heard in the shrill and screeching wind tearing down forests in its path…no refuge, no safety…pure energy lashing out…she will reveal herself only to vanish ……
Provoke me and you will be extinguished in chaos… attack on me OR attack on those I hold sacred will be the only transgression…….I fit into society, my face will not be recognized as the end…formlessness, cleverness, deception, trickery, surprise, will be the trap I lay…penetration into your secret places through cold crisp patience will be my mode…reasoned intelligence the tool….I will be as near to you as your exhaled breath, swirling about you…I will be as inaccessible as anything you can imagine….
incapacitated instantaneously by mortal wound or venom…no words, no looks, only death…evisceration…scattering of offal, coiling inside a hollowed cavity, a warm moist nest, liters of blood will be a slick, vicious, and complete coating for a vengeful demon, chewing indiscriminately on stopped organs…hours pass….warmth wanes…an explosion of activity…rending tissue to shreds…filthy, unrecognizable, waste, pattern less…chaos….. and THEN…. coolness of perfection returns and she continues in a world without you……………..
Additional Thoughts
May I consider myself an unrighteous evil monarch…at times perhaps, yet decked anew in fairest raiment in wondrous fashion I am but a chameleon who breaths in human experience without thought of consequence. That which remains... men of wisdom loath and scorn in all their self-made sin.
Dear reader, may I introduce myself properly then? But how to do so is the true question that is syncopated with the beating within my breast…alas, let me rectify the harmony and allow you into the inner sanctum of my soul where my thoughts flutter like the wings of Tethra. But dear reader be warned of the embrace which some thoughts have on those who delve into their depths……
Look, it cannot be seen - it is beyond form.
Listen, it cannot be heard - it is beyond sound.
Grasp, it cannot be held - it is intangible.
These three are indefinable, they are one.
From above it is not bright;
From below it is not dark:
Unbroken thread beyond description.
It returns to nothingness.
Form of the formless,
Image of the imageless,
It is called indefinable and beyond imagination.
Stand before it - there is no beginning.
Follow it and there is no end. .
I have traveled beyond the fringes of human civilization as well as into the densest of populations. I study humans dispassionately and coldly since my break from them long ago. It is through this objectivity that I have come to see value and beauty in thought above all else. I have found that in human affairs, great caution must be exercised in bridling ones thoughts and hence ones actions. For example:
An Arabic legend, dating to the seventh century A.D., has it that Qays , the son of a tribal chieftain, was a beautiful, brilliant boy -- until he met Layla, meaning "night" for her jet black hair. So intoxicated was Qays that one day he sprang from his school chair to race through the streets shouting out her name. Henceforth he was known as Majnun, or madman. Soon Majnun began to drift with the desert sand, living in caves with the animals, singing verses to his beloved, while Layla, cloistered in her father's tent, slipped out at night to toss love notes to the wind. Sympathetic passersby would bring these appeals to the wild-haired, almost-naked poet boy. Their mutual passion would eventually lead to war between their tribes -- and death to the lovers. Only this legend remains. Helen Fisher
Hubris will surface like a ravenous beast when we do not allow ourselves to sink into the dark spaces that surround us and which provide the sustenance we require. Mental anguish can only be extinguished by sinking and settling…games of distraction will only feed the fire.
It is only through commune with darkness that we can experience our existence and know the universe and thus discern the hearts of others. This is because the world is as it ever has been and humans have always acted out of rote to their instinctual programming, however, it is our reliance on that outside ourselves which has severed our ties to the world and has allowed our intincts to become distracted. In antiquity the gods were drawn from the heavens, landscapes, and waterways. Today gods are observed strolling on digitally manufactured backdrops, and yet we are still so sure we know what other people think or what their true character is.
Readers of this profile, I am but a shadow, an illusion who is what was before, what is now, and what will remain after I have morphed yet again into recesses of the cosmos. I leave you to think of the following passage:
An Archaic Manuscript -- a collection of palm leaves made impermeable to water, fire, and air, by some specific unknown process -- is before the writer's eye. On the first page is an immaculate white disk within a dull black ground. On the following page, the same disk, but with a central point. The first, the student knows to represent Kosmos in Eternity, before the re-awakening of still slumbering Energy, the emanation of the Word in later systems. The point in the hitherto immaculate Disk . . . denotes the dawn of differentiation. It is the Point in the Mundane Egg, the germ . . . which will become the Universe, the all, the boundless, periodical Kosmos, this germ being latent and active, periodically and by turns. The one circle is divine Unity, from which all proceeds, whither all returns. Its circumference . . . indicates the abstract, ever incognisable presence, and its plane, the Universal Soul, although the two are one. Only the face of the Disk being white and the ground all around black, shows clearly that its plane is the only knowledge . . . that is attainable by man. It is on this plane that the Manvantaric manifestations begin; for it is in this soul that slumbers, during the Pralaya, the Divine Thought, wherein lies concealed the plan of every future Cosmogony and Theogony.
Please Note: I had posted a couple of pictures of me in my Portfolio, but given my prior disclosure as to city...I took them off. It kind of freaks me out to have someone know all about my thoughts, have a photo of me, combined with not knowing that someone at all. I am 5'10" tall a slender ~120 pounds with light brown eyes and dark brown hair....friends have called me "the stick".
An Interesting Time to Date
Now if you have read to here I thank you. I have found that VR is quite cathartic for me to put out publicly what I feel and, more importantly, think. Last week in the forum there was a question that made me think over the weekend. It was “What do you want done with you when you die”….
My real name is Marcella, I am 41, until September… I have had an interesting life, but not necessarily a very happy one. I often think of the Chinese saying “May you live in interesting times”, since it is cited to be a curse rather than a hope for a good future.
When I was four my dad died in a car wreck on the 101. I only remember the aftermath since my mother blamed me for his death…long story (I was not in the car, but he was getting something for me, according to my mother). If my mother did “really” think I was the cause...it does not matter... she was very cold to me until we parted ways, without a word, when I was 18. I miss my dad a lot…every Father’s day the commercials always make me sad. He worked in an office as office machine representative, I remember going there with him one day, I was his little girl and I love him to this day.
Had a step-father, I hated him and he hated me too. His most kind comment was that I was a “little bitch” whose mother would have been better off without me. Needless to say holidays were not of the Norman Rockwell variety. Had a loving aunt on my dad’s side. She was the only one alive from that side that I can remember. She died of cancer when I was 10. Never researched to find anyone else in family.
Got date raped my senior year in high school by someone I “trusted” and ended up with two cracked (broken?) ribs for the struggle. Never told my mother, I doubt she would have seen me as a victim anyway. That experience gave me nightmares for years, in addition I would go absolutely nuts if someone held onto me. If there is a phobia I have, it is being unable to move…I am also very claustrophobic.
Went to college from 1984 to 1990 for biology (but took lots of art classes)…thought about being a MD, wanted to do research……, studied gung-fu, and met Karen who became my best friend and Kim who I lost in 2001.
Got married to a third year law student…Tim… while I was finishing an MS in biology. Had a son (Tim II) with him in 1991 and a second (Brian) in 1993. Stayed at home, “we” thought that was better. I quit work after leaving on maternity. Lived in a nice house that Tim’s grandfather left him, had a nice car…tried to fit in to the “mommy” clique …that never happened.
Opened an art galley with Karen and another friend in 2000.
September 2001 (in the order in which they occurred): Had a very crappy birthday, found out about Renee (an associate at Tim’s firm…now wife of Tim), and lost a college friend in NY on the 11th. I was within a few short weeks reduced to feeling like a shell of a person. Depression became my friend and the only meaningful experiences I had was hugs from the boys (before I was made “off-limits” by Tim) and Karen. I learned that human touch is a commodity we cannot live without.
Got divorced in 2002, learned all about what the terms “separate” and “community” property mean and how if you are a lawyer, you will ensure that your ex-wife is entitled to nothing and made out to be “emotionally vacant”. Also learned I should have gotten a lawyer, but it was the principle of the thing…more like how to ensure I got hurt to the maximum allowed by law. Had the court or the settlement required me to be stoned to death in the public square I would have been all for it.
Moved in with Karen before the final divorce….almost killed myself January 2003. A few bad phone calls, a horrible holiday season (despite Karen et. al. best efforts), and a bottle of wine and some oxycodone that I had been prescribed for an earlier injury, left me cutting my wrist with a razor at the kitchen table while in only my underwear. I remember the very soothing feeling of the blood as I allowed it to run down to my elbow and onto my leg. I do not think I was trying to kill myself…it was a weird combination of thrill, curiosity, and a feeling like I was someone else watching myself. I may have lost too much blood, took too much oxycodine, or just mixed in the wine, but in any event when Karen came home after an unscheduled fight with her boyfriend….there I was passed out on the kitchen floor with blood on the table, the chair, the floor….everywhere. Karen, an RN, called 911 and did what she could….I don’t remember any of it at all. I only remember waking up with a catheter and various other tubes in me and feeling very, very, scared. I also remember Karen being there and holding my face while she said “Marcella what the hell where you thinking”….point was, I wasn’t. She was my only visitor other than the medical staff while I was at the hospital.
Many months later, I moved into my own place and have been there ever since. I have close, but small, group of friends. They know most of this, but not all. I am private in my thoughts.
My aspirations… to live with the spirit I found in the following poem:
The battle of life is waged upon the sands of time
Which race out ahead into fiery horizon before me
It is my lot, my destiny to bring will to bear on the future
Standing before me this shifting and veiled terrain has no limits
Only my cry and charge with sword and shield makes the difference
Buffeted by onslaught…I endure I triumph
Beneath my steps the earth holds fast as I advance
Behind me is the spirits of other great warriors
Who forward into the unknown with head up and eyes bright
I started where they stopped taking their weapons, and ideals with me
I see oasis where maps say sand and rock
I find roads where the masses say I cannot go
It is the wings of my soaring spirit that propels me
The blood from the inevitable wounds will flow free
The tears of pain wash my dust covered face
But I prevail for I know the secret
I leapt from the flock and plunged into life
The fire within my breast is fed with the fuel of challenge
My head is clear I see connection
Endless tasks await but within is a sweet nectar
My limbs strengthened by contest wield deftly my tools of war
The battle will wax and wane
But always it is my battle and my field of conquest
What do I want to happen to me when I die???? I still think my post is applicable. I want to go to a remote and very secluded protected place where I may lie for centuries undisturbed. I want to then be found and treated like a treasure, with care and respect. I want a future person to caress my bones and to be filled with wonder about the life I led. I want to be marveled at and protected…..nothing more.
Innocence I will Not Leave You
The sun came up again…I am here….
Laying there thinking of the choices, thinking of the outcomes, thinking of consequences, thinking of a niche where this entity fits….so small, so very, very small…meaningless perhaps…touching no one really with a lasting depth, not entirely true, a mother is forever even if not here…better memories ahead? A zenith reached years ago, an unstable orbit, decaying, decaying, decaying…. A top which spins with stability…patterns becoming vivid images moving with undulating regularity…joy…a sense of engagement…a sense of purpose….its dance complete…almost, not quite….a slight shudder….turn away ….it could not transcend this world even with the beauty of conservation….waste….
A converging point…illusion really, it appears up close like a jagged and craggy terrain, be that the case or not on a scale it can seek its way through being with effortless and grimacing efficiency…whisk and part, a biological structure transforms according to tensions…curling away, racing forward, opening a chasm….opening something new to the world….
Rhythmic since that potential first swept through it, releasing it to its own accord to seek its way, imbuing it with purpose…dynamic, pounding out against restraint…taking up a losing challenge with vigor that sees nothing else…fully blind….a chasm here would not be noticed, would not be accepted, would be ignored…alas, seen not the pathway ends…full stop, a garden wall is finally reached….no tears, no rest….the workman is led away…
A little girl sits on a window ledge looking out into the late summer garden... thinking thoughts….flashes here….connection there….a flitting bird races from branch to vine…she laughs and feels warmth bathe her every pore…innocence sits there with her, stroking brown hair back behind an ear…holding her tight….without recognition a tear forms and then retreats…it has no place here, the glaring red eyes of innocence is more than it can bear….the little girl waits and giggles with childish delight at the play….
Three inches away a nexus waits…a blind workman, a convergence, and a startled girl…but who would know more than the other? A conviction… a cowering….a courageous last stand….convergence waits positioned, a point between the bars, the little girl is not looking, “she will not know” says a voice…a realization, the players are unaware….oh voice, who are you? Why are you here in this garden of late summer making? Watery pools that still reflect warm light, still soft, still warm, still hoping……”the answer” coos the voice, the answer….the voice or wind of something growing nearer? The little girl waits, not noticing the storm not formed…innocence continues telling her she is beautiful…..
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| Member Since: | Jun 25, 2007 |
| Last Login: | Jun 23, 2008 |
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