She is a greedy bastard who is never satisfied. Never blessed her strength for carrying her ungrateful baggageâs to the shores. Now the next thing is to swim the river of fear. & the salty taste in her mouth isnât blood but her rebellious tears. If she embraced her journey first, & realised her life isnât a race, She wouldnât be drowning in the murky sea of the next accomplishment.
She will definitely make it, But she wonât get there without soaking in despire.
People tend to have a shallow concept about meditation. But they have no idea how hard it is, to keep your thoughts calm, at bay. To accept all negative snippets of thoughts dropping like hails in your head before you can actually let them go.
I have been trying for as long as I can remember and never have I experienced the blissful silence they all speak about. It frustrates me so much that today, I decided fo skip meditation class.
I sat on the creaking wooden floor on my porch looking out at the beautiful display of the night. The darkness thatâs almost thick and tangible. The sky that reminds me of the sea with potent dark food colouring. The stars probably the sea crystals levitating to the surface. Trust me you only find treasures as night if you are brave enough to go digging.
And the moonlight looks like a big bulb of hope, scorching the obscenities to reveal whatâs really beautiful beneath layers. The light suddenly felt brighter like someone almost increased its illumination. The clouds around it shown and I could swear on seeing a rainbow around the moon. My ears pricked with noise from faraway. But I was enchanted by the marvel of the big stone of white crystal light for my attention to judder.
Nothing mattered anymore, not the bad day I had this morning or my anxiety and worries about tomorrow. It was just me, the moon and my hopes getting bright in the darkness of the cold night.
I watched it carefully, my mum told me observations is also meditating : âyou just need to be aware of what you are observingâ, she always says. And I smiled. And then frowned and I smiled again. Because I lost me train of thought I was observing the moon and itâs light. And a thought dropped in my head. Didnât even realised I got distracted but now I have realised. I can let go and move on with my silence observation.
Meditating will never be easy even with a focal point as enticing as the wonderland of the moon.
Today the moon goddess was gifting non shifters new wolves. And if we are able to handle the day we remain one. The transformation was happening at dawn and I watched every second tick by with anticipation.
âYou know I love you regardless of whoever you are right?â Adrian, my mate whispered in my ears. We have gone over this conversation before and I have assured him that I am doing this for myself. But he keeps bringing it back. I turned from the clock and looked at him, his grey eyes shimmering with a supernatural glint and I watched in admiration.
Suddenly a sharp stabbing ache shot through my back and I knew the minutes have stroke midnight. A unison of piercing scream trembled the pack house. All the humans were shifting. My body jerked in uncontrollably ways. A scotching pang of headache numbed my body and tears blurred my vision. At that point I knew two things, my skull was morphing to a wolfâs and I wanted to drift into unconsciousness. But I knew I couldnât give up this is the main test.
While I was fighting my eyes to open I could hear Adrian begging me to stay stronger. I was so shocked I thought he would tell me to give up and end this suffering. As his mate, he feels my pain both physical and emotional so I knew I wasnât the only one going through this hell.
Suddenly, I land on the wooden floor on four. My ribs kept pitching my heart to calm down. I ignore the headache and the wobbling paws and walked to the mirror to look at myself. I realised I didnât need the lights on. I could see meticulously and decipher the smell of every item in the clustered room. The honeycomb and blackberry sent of my mate. The lingering sent of vanilla and sandalwood of our shampoo. His old socks that stench like moulds and raw eggs somewhere... is it behinds the sofa? Thatâs where the sent was travelling from. I loved what I saw in the mirror, I was at least 4 foot with bronze fur and yellow eyes. My favourites colour. The moonlight pouring out of the window made my fur shimmer a slight. I howled at the moon in content and Adrian giggled from behind me.
Suddenly, I crumbled on the floor with an astonishing pain. They told me the acceptance part was the hardest. My heart winced and tighten. It felt like a million people were forcing their way inside my heart. The pack has accepted me. The moment the thought of giving up emerged the sensation stopped and I felt the chilly wooden floor again my cold pecan skin. Adrian rushed to hug me. Tears prickled my eyes and I could smell everything, see his pale skin with my night vision. âBabes... I did itâ. I said with a groggy voice. âI love youâ. He said and kissed my temple.
The rules are very simple.
âYOU DO NOT SAVE SOMEONE WHO DOESNâT WANT TO BE SAVED!!â She knows this very well now and sometimes she wishes she knew this before all hell broke loose on her. Deep down she knows she wonât be living long to apply this rule. Her court day is literally tomorrow.
Now she is sinking in the comfort of the prison bed, however she is anything but at peace. Her current state is the definition of an oxymoron.
She stared at her pastel yellow walls and the pale white ceiling that reflected her current cloudy mood.
She should have been at work but after what happened she doubt her master would bring her back despite her hard works. In her world where vampires rules, humans are mostly slaves and rarely dinner as this generation of vampires have learnt to control their thirst for human blood. But she was too numb by horror of what her end would be since her court day was tomorrow.
This was her crime, she wanted to help a vampire toddler who was about to fall off the the staircase. She should have turned the other way the moment she saw the scene. The toddler didnât want to be helped but she force help her and ended up dropping the toddler while hurting herself. The toddler is now at the hospital with a broken leg. Vampire kids have the same strength at a human toddler so she was in a big mess.
She hasnât slept a drop the whole week she has spent her. She didnât know if it was best to drain herself so her death would be less noticeable by her slowly drifting consciousness.
She vowed to herself, in her next life she would make sure to take a no for a no and allow people to whither away if that is their choice.
Anyone whoâs unfortunate to make eye contact with me would face my aggressive demeanour like fifty slaps on there face. The bus was crowded and bodies were rubbing against each other in a slimy war of sweat. That wasnât as bad as the piecing noise. A lady approached me with an innocent smile and asked whether I was ok.
I hate noise. I hate small talks. I hate it when people thinks talking is the best way to dissolve awkwardness. But unfortunately that is my reality, my 9-5 with no pay. This is what I deal with every day. Everyone is in your personal space, their nose deep in my personal business. Sometimes I felt like wanting to tear my hair out. Weil out a volcanic tantrum of insults.
But I donât say anything. Talking increases the volume of madness in this world. Sometimes I wonder how it would feel like with everyone quite in this world. We could hear birds sing, the breeze whispering, plants copulating and maybe we could finally hear a pin drop. How beautiful would it be to witness the stagnant changes between seasons because we are more quite and more observant. I smiled to myself while imagining all these. It also feels good to think and be alone in our thoughts by yourself without people snooping.
Thatâs when I was tapped on the shoulder by the brunette who talked to to me earlier. And all the buzzing confusion return again.
I have always wondered how it would feel to be free Must be like levitating over my insecurities My heart would be pure like the innocent of a new born . Because I wonât hold on to my lidded up voice like a champagne bottle of overbearing emotions. I would be as light as a brown paper bag.
Perhaps the sound of my feet will be a beautiful melody. It would walk with a rhythm of peace from all things not serving me. All things holding me back. All things that donât love me but I love unnecessarily.
I really wonder how it would feel to be free.
He sat atop And I on the ground. Toys sprayed like endless blessing around. I have always been lucky.
Content succumb me like a second skin His presence felt like the taste of eternity. Who sees God and turns away?
Only a child leaning how to crawl. I guess I thought I was confident to walk.
My prayers remains that I turn around. Most importantly, find the right path. Deep down I will always be a child. His daughter, that he plays with.
I knew this mental exercise was coming. It is always this away when I am with him. But I donât complain because these conversations always takes me to places I never imagined I would ever be. So he repeated the question âwhat is your favourite placeâ.
âIt would be a lie to say I have a favourite place. Perhaps I do, but it a a puzzle pieces of all the other places I can feel my soul alive.â
âThis place smells welcoming like Sunday breakfast and soulful like Friday dinner. It has been stacked with endless staircase of books like unlimited source of fermented knowledge and is as warm as my lonely space. It has the look if flowery spring, feel like 9pm midsummer and smell like sandalwood, lavender and vanilla. When I am here my soul always feel as if itâs enveloped by a warm bath and massaged with baptised hands. I fall into an addiction of peace. In here the seductive allure of rain will lurk in the air every morning and the sun will set at 12pm. Itâs casting a silhouette of orange, red and yellow like there is a tropical feast in the highest heaven, where the devil smells like purification and angels celebrate. The sky is closer to the ground so my touch at the cotton candy clouds triggers a rain clear as it can be to the clearest honey. And when it touches the ground , it coats everything with sweetness. That is why I am always hurrying to be at my favourite place.â
âDoes this places existâ he ask?
âYes. It exist in the endless loop of lightness in my head and I love to be there while I rest in my warm bed. In the lonely company of my bedroom, surrounded by old books and piles of clothes sprayed on the week old hovered carpet. What is your favourite place likeâ?
There are days I think about life, I think about Love, laughs and our faults. And I donât know which one of us was wrong. But thereâs betrayal I feel.
Betrayal for myself. For loving your faults more than mine. For becoming your anchor and leaving myself to fall and shatter.
There are times though, that I feel like I was just going with the flow. The flow of our faults.
You were a the newest limited edition to all the mistakes there were on this earth. You where a problem to be solved by someone else perhaps maybe God.
And I was a black hole breaking collapsing into myself. The problem was that, I thought I was better than you: And I could save you.
But through that I betrayed myself. Tainted myself with your infection and become a pandemic. Now everyone around me is dying, And those far away and getting farer
And now, I am alone. Not knowing how to cure myself, Because my healer is afraid to get infected too.
Pain was screaming in frustration as if itself was struggling to identify its own emotions. I could drop on the wet floor pitching my nose with a strong scent of detergent and I wouldnât careless. Thatâs the boogie and ratchet. But I know I canât. âActually I canât. I can do whatever I wantâ. I could hear my stubborn persona screeching in my ears. God sometimes I feel as though I have multiple personality disorder.
I kept my mind on the task so I can finish early and go home. I would love to brew my achy muscles in warm bathtub and leave my worries for tomorrow. Currently, I am mopping the lobby.
âStupid girl. Can you be careful?â. Shock responded to this suddenly outburst by freezing my body.
I turned to see what crime I have committed to deserve been called âstupid â but I was only met with nothing. Just the sleazy, stupid creepy guy who has been trying to hit on me . I guess thatâs his response for rejection . âOh well thatâs his cup of tea not mine â. The nonchalant part of my responded.
I ignored to continue my mopping but his hoarse voice they felt like sandpaper grating my skin prickled my ears. âStupid girl you touched my shoe with that disgusting mop. What is wrong with you?â
All my emotions fought a battle of dominance. Everyone looking at me could tell I was torn in a muddy war of conflict.
In my head I could hear statements like â pour the water on him and mop his tongue maybe his tongue will be clean enough to speak well to ladyâ. â Hit his head with the mop and use the keys in your pocket to slit his throat. When he reincarnate back again he will learn to respect you.â âWhat about shoving his head inside the mop bucket and then he can tell you whether that is worse than getting the water on his shoes?â âMaybe you should ignore him so he can talk more, looks like thatâs his coping mechanism for rejection.â
I was torn between anger, frustration and tiredness. And I am not sure if evil thoughts are also emotions too because I really wanted to end his miserable life for him but I ignored it.
âAre you deaf as well or what?â He barked again.
Inside of my was still a tug of war but tiredness and anger both fought for dominion and won, my emotions were torn into two perfect halves.
âListen to me sir, I am sorry that you got water in your shoes. If itâs that bad take them off and throw them away. They are already ugly. As you can see I am busy mopping so if you are done yapping, remove your 5ft self out of my way. I have work to do.â
I walked away. Content that I unleashed my anger and now I can get some rest.
