Shadow Screams

I wonder now if it is impossible to kill the darkest part of yourself. I want nothing more than to murder the other part of myself, but sadly it is intertwined with the part of me that by necessity must live. My constant struggle continues in a blur of rage and suicidal desire. What is probably the saddest part of this tale is that I cannot simply “TALK” to someone about this. It’s not like I don’t know how to convey the emotions, or how to tell someone what is going on with me, it is more like an infection. I know better than anyone else that I am horribly, terribly sick. My mind appears to be divided into two subsections, there is one part that is murderous and malicious, and another in constant conflict with this part of creating a very peculiar development with my life. To describe it, consider this: There exists somewhere in the deep heart of the Amazon Jungle a great lion with a golden shining mane. To stay alive it slays many victims and mourns for every one of them. It cries black tears as thick and flexible as tar. When the clock tolls midnight and the moon rises high, a pool of effervescent light forms in the black and gives it voice. The deaths of all of the lions victims , even the parts of itself that It was forced to murder, the stray bits of mane soaked in blood , were in the tears. Perhaps there is one thing I forgot to mention. This lion has a dark secret, as much as it tries to hide it behind his mane, it has a dark scar that was a present from his father. It takes great pleasure in the screams of the victims. Sadly, as king of the jungle, the lion is forced to roam in the bushes and glut itself on the gazelles and snakes and fowls. He is charged with keeping balance but is entirely alone as only one is meant to take up this fight. In the pool of his tears that haunts him wherever he goes, lay the screams that he must struggle to never enjoy. They start as whispers and bubble into “Shadow Screams” of blinding volume. Only the lion can hear them, and he must still shine even through the darkness to ward of the villains that he must fight in the night. Now when Shadow screams resonate they grow louder and louder and, so long as there is darkness, they can keep growing. The scar in the lions skin, every night, resonates with the screams of the shadows, growing louder and louder within him. The reason lions roar is to release the screams of their shadows. This lion however is cursed even further than merely roaring. He despises his very state of existence , his fight is day and night and he grows tired of fighting at all. He has only to resonate at the same frequency as the shadow to nullify it, but if he does that , he will become part of it. How can he continue in his duties , how can he serve his master if he does so. The short answer…. He can’t, yet he continues his fight against himself , while he yet still hates himself. Anger boiling , tears screaming , joy dying. The part of himself that he hates , the scar that was given him by his father, that lets him take so much joy in the suffering of  his victims, what more can he do , is there any other place he can turn? Was this not the fight his master had perpetuated? Is it not his duty to then find a way to cope with the maddening state of his being? Who knows, The lion merely wants solace , and so he licks at the scar in the midnight, he tastes the blood of madness and it tastes DELICIOUS. Like a drug he is sedated for the moment, brought into some blissful state of dopamine and serotonin , he embraces a brand new soma , his own brave new world. He wakes from his high the same way everytime , by looking in the mirror in his dream and seeing yet another, new, gruesome scar on his soul. He awakes and only he can see the new scar bleeding underneath is glimmering name and continues his trade. Where is his master? Master knows does he not? Shouldn’t the master know what is best for his lion? What is to become of this poor creature, for each night that passes he is left with little choice right? He must find the master, look high and low, and so he searches and is commended for it. He is angry with the world that applauds him , the black of his soul bubbles and he wishes to glut himself on their blood. But if he did that he would succumb finally to the black. Weighted by the shadow and deafened by their screams , he charges forward in search of his master. The only one who can save him from himself. He knows that something hideous incubates in the shadow that he casts. He can’t let anyone else be consumed in the shadow flowing from his wounds so he can only scream in the dark, release the screams of his shadows into the dark heart of the world to fade into nothing. For how long can he continue before he is forced to end himself to prevent the spread of his shadow?

That is my dilemma in a nutshell. I hate myself at almost a fundamental level , yet I must learn to love myself. Or perhaps I love what I am and hate the fact that I do. There are a billion different ways the information could present itself in reality, but none really matter , I can’t tell which perception is the right one anymore. I’ve become lost in the gray. I have to keep moving forward , bearing my horrid errors. Can I really survive much longer like this?

*but you promised never to give up?*

* but you promised you would never go down forever?*

* didn’t you say that no pain was too great so long as he stood with you?*

*  don’t you know that you’re not alone….aren’t you?*

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