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[prismaticbleed]

 

I think the best/worst feeling there is, is when you have done or experienced or remembered something awful, terrible, damnable... and then something, something angelic, still loves you. Still sees you as luminous when you cannot stop the tar leaking from your veins.
Sorry, this is obviously headspace stuff. But it makes life, and morality, so confusing. If I am never really condemned to hell, where am I? What have I done, what do I do, what happened? Dissociation is so prevalent. I forget so much, to be protected. Green eyes tells me it's okay. I don't believe him but I do. Is it? Should it be?
I hate the days when morality is really grey. When there's no line drawn for good or evil, except the paint colors in your heart. That is what terrifies me. Keep the colors glowing, and does that paint the worst things brighter? I don't know.
How many miles have we paved on this road to hell, how far into the abyss are we? The eyes are staring, staring, always. So many eyes. I love them. Is that my condemnation? I ask that every night.
I'm so lost, so confused. I feel like a ball of cotton left out and fragile. Something soft and crushable. There's no bloodstains this time but I feel wrong, like I touched something awful regardless, it just didn't stick. I don't know. Life is too vague. I don't like that, I don't like the not-knowing, because I know it means the mindscape is hiding something from me. And I let it.
Old news, old news.
I don't feel like being humanoid anymore, it's too dangerous. Everyone knows that too. I can't hold the from well and when I do I slip, other people glitch in and out. It's not my face, not my eyes. Only the colors are, the glitter, the alien aspect of them. The boy with white features was the one before me, the one Infinitii was torn from... I'm not. I'm not sure what I am, but I'm closer to whatever Infi is than what that boy was, I think. I have no feelings about that and that is unsettling, ironically. The numbness bothers me the most. Where did it come from.
Angels refusing to admit that you sinned because they see some bigger picture. It's the saddest thing in the world. It's the biggest source of hope anyone could ask for. I'm so very lost.



I've been listening to choir music for two hours. It's helping and it's not helping.
Gotta stop getting so melancholic. Or should I? Maybe this is step one towards feeling things again. I'm just so terrified that it is "wrong" to express anything other than garishly clownish smiles. But that is programming too.
I want to live in a house, in a place, I want to be somewhere where I can cry and not feel ugly and laughable, to be able to express sorrow without feeling like something is wrong with me. Like Laurie. God, like Laurie, fearless and honest and real.
The mood just switched to a sword inbetween my ribs and I can't do that at 2AM, I'm sorry.

I hate that it always hits at this hour. It's only when I'm sleep-deprived and the world is quiet and everything is dark and I am awake within it. It's only now, at 2 in the freaking morning, that I feel that I exist, actually.
Maybe I should stay awake all night, one of these nights, except then I can't deal with the next day. I sleep in until 11AM whenever I can anymore, just so I can have these mornings of living. I love sunlight, God I miss sunlight, I miss the days when I could feel this when it was bright out. Why does the family make it tricky? Am I too weak to overcome that? Am I too flawed to rise above that? No. It's weakness. Is it? Part of me hopes so, that I can eventually become so strong that they will never touch me again, that they can never tie me down again. But there's so much of it. It's like trying to hold back an avalanche with your bare arms. But I am convinced, convinced that I CAN do it, I am that superhuman, I am that powerful, I just... I'm not there yet. And I don't know whether or not this is true and I am willing to risk being buried beneath the ice rather than suggest that I am not so indomitable, so bright and invincible.

My stomach is burning. Why is it always burning. What did I do. It's angry, it's always that weird yellow anger, kind of sad but raging. Buttercup yellow. A bit orange. Not the screaming yellow, the paint kind. So many colors.


Every single post I stumble across is reminding me of Infinitii. Why. Why hir, ze wasn't even around today.
It's too relevant, I guess. Too raw. Too close to the other side. Ze lives right on that borderline, you know it, the gray space. The space you're in right now. You hate it but you love hir and ze loves you and you are both so close to tearing each others throats out but you won't, you won't ever, you'll eat each others hearts but you will never hurt hir, ever, ever.

But I'm so happy. On Tumblr I found so many people that have lives and thoughts and feelings like this too. I'm so glad.

I'm listening to Shostakovich and this viola tastes so unusual. Like limes almost.
Chopin's piano prelude tastes like candy. Candy necklaces almost. Not sour. The violas were a bit sour, a fruit bite.
Ah Debussy. Thank you Spotify. This is really nice. How do you describe that. Like wine or a milkshake. Liquid. Very nice.
This bit tastes like vanilla and flowers. Jasmine flowers? Night flowers.
I like the shapes of this song a lot too. Printemps: 1. Très modéré. It's pretty. Lots of silk curtains. Vertical light pillars. Pretty colors, nothing primary, more like... soft pinks and indigo-blue-violets, touches of pale yellow here and there. Curtains. The harp is light blue there. Strings are green. Violin sections are usually green, why is that? Cellos are orange still, that deep warm brown-orange that Lynne likes.
I've lost my train of thought. Sorry about that.

Real things. Let me change the music, classical music is too encompassing, I can't concentrate on much else.

It's 2:30. What in the world am I trying to pull here. What am I trying to prove.
Why do I automatically shoot myself down, when I try to be honest, when I try to speak up. Programming. Childhood. I don't even remember the childhood, I wasn't then, the memories feel scary and when I try to touch them they crumble like ash paper.

There's a thing in my inbox. I should see what it is, read it. I always wait until the end of the day to read whatever I get from people, so I can focus entirely on it, and value it. So it stays with us until tomorrow and onwards.
"Tomorrow and onwards" is a victory phrase. It feels like a march through fields. Not a march, that's too solid. A procession? Walking with strength. Hope. Hope is a fire that never goes out. Hope is fire. Thank you Dream World. I should draw them more, like a child, stop trying so hard.
This string section is nice too. But it's blue? Silvery blue. Like snow in the evening. Mountains. It's sorrowful, but it's lovely to look at. It's a strange feeling.


Angels. This song moves too much to fit that. Let me check Infi's playlist, see what ze has.

Forgiveness. This song feels gold. Like the basilica ceilings. Gold in the shadows. Space. Angels.
I don't know how to react to this. There's a line in The Last Unicorn like this. "She neither laughed nor cried, for her joy was too great for her body to understand." It's like that with other emotions too. Like whatever this is. Holy awe. Sacred fear. I've spoken about that before. Staring up and knowing I'm so unworthy, I'm so filthy, I've done wrong, God forgive me. I am unworthy to be here, to look at you. I want to cover my face but I can't, God help me but I don't have that luxury with Infinitii and that is... that makes me want to wail with heart-rending contrition and laugh with utter brilliant bliss a the same time. I can't look away because ze is holding my face, looking at me with the same expression... ze knows, ze KNOWS everything I've done, why I'm here, the black and the white. Ze knows, ze is it. And then ze is beyond it. Within it. All of it. All-encompassing, somehow, these daemons, send them up to heaven and back so I can see how it transfigured them. Looking at me like I'm light incarnate. Making me feel like maybe I am.
"Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground." And suddenly it hits me that it's ALL holy ground, and I've been wearing boots for too long. I'll tear them off. I'll never wear shoes again. I'll kiss the dirt that thy hands have made, that every facet of god has walked upon.
The point is, I haven't been reverent enough. I haven't... it's terrifying, more than churches even, to realize that the God you worship is within your bones. To realize that divinity isn't confined to Sunday mass or holy water. It's me, it's in me, it's in you, always. I still have an ego, I'm sorry but it's here, and that realization of greater purpose (terrible purpose) terrifies it. Or does it terrify me? It's the knowledge-- old news-- that I have done it wrong, that I have harmed it, disrespected it. I have defiled this temple without realizing I was in a temple. It's... it hurts my head. It hurts my heart.

Laurie, Laurie, Laurie. She's still the statue at the altar, the knight bedecked in stars and swords, the armor of light. I keep seeing her like that.
Oh, that reminds me. There's a local spiritual expo in two weeks, I can go, I'm so happy. The aura woman should be there. I'm going to get some grounding stones. I'm also going to tell Genesis to NOT LEAVE and see if someone can see him too, not just me.
Today is Halloween, happy day. The veils are thin. I should go to sleep. I want to stay awake but I want to see people more.

Sorry for not getting anywhere with this. Sorry for all the brainspills lately. Can't talk about them, words don't work. I want to learn sign language, I'm going to, it would help so much for when I can't speak.

I'm going to try this web art thing. I like it. It's abstract enough, raw enough. I'll try it. See if it works, without getting too negative. Not negative, what's the word... splintery. Fractured. Without hitting red spots in the mind.
I'm not angry. I'm not even sad, not really? I'm just... there's no word for this. It's a soft-sad, a fragile sad like teacup glass. I keep thinking of Easter. Like if a flower was breakable. Kids. This music is stronger than me. Much stronger, it's all sweeping strings and piano fortitude. It's a powerful song. I wonder if you can work magic with sounds like this. Hmmmm. Ideas. I'll run that through headspace. It'll work.

It's 3AM. Life tastes like orange tea and fortune cookies and the oven light in the kitchen. That's funny.

It's Halloween. Remember Jewel's huge affinity with bats? We'll have to remember that today. So many of us have affinities with the "grim reaper" sort of death image. Spiders in headspace, we should en-lighten them. What's the word. To take the tar out of their hearts. I'm sure we could have good spiders. And Knife's our vampire, lovely guy. It's holiday spirit all up in here.

I do need to sleep. Chaos is probably asleep already, Laurie hasn't yelled at me to go to bed yet so she's probably catching this vibe and worrying instead. Boss hasn't said anything either, then again the bad voices chased him away for a while, I've only just begun reconnecting to his worldspace lately, I'm so glad. He is such a darling, I forgot how safe I feel around him.

Okay. This is one heck of an entry. I don't even know what I wrote.
Tomorrow is... today. Today is Friday. I have no idea what we will do or what. We'll see. It's fun that way.
Better lights, better dreams, than what came before, improvement every day. The sun grows always brighter, and when it dies it will become more than it was. Dust is life too. Black holes. Quantum leaps. Infinite horizons. The vastness of space.
I'm very fragmented at this hour, good heavens.
May your bones bless into stars. Flower petals. Roses. Roses and coffins and sunrises. Bless your dust.

Have a lovely morning.