I cannot run, the things I fear is within me

At last I have reached the point that I am able with all sanity to admit to what I am afraid of. I am able only because none of you know who I am. I am only able because I feel like if I told anyone other than strangers and whatever supernatural entities exist, I must be mad.

I am mad, utterly mad. I’m mad to think that the path I walk will work because I will it to be. I’m mad with self fascination. But don’t you see? I am afraid of that which lies within my head and my heart.

That’s why I’ve been trying to kill it, but no. The world… my family…. why do they want to keep this thing alive?

This magical thinking is the problem. The thinking that…… if I will it to be so… it is. I fucking caused an act of nature not seen in decades. Or so it appears. Even I doubt it. Yet I screamed to the heavens that I wished it would be as if a bomb was dropped on the wretched place that I was at. That very night a great storm carved a mile wide path of destruction around the place where I screamed. Yet, I am clearly mad.

Tonight, I was up late reading a book. Over and over again, my first name was used for the figure I fear myself to be, some sort of puppet master. Then my last name. Then words came out of the book that mirrored my own thoughts, my own will. My fear was alive in the horror I read. Which is great, that’s why I read horror at all…. but….

Why do I keep hearing my name? Is this a divine source? I know we don’t talk about religion here, and I expect no answers….. not here.

Yet as I type, these thoughts are released. I have… surrendered my life, to some greater force. Then I find myself with… power… influence…

There are of course real reasons for my power and influence. For one thing, I was born well off. For another, I was born and raised in states that are obsessed with capitalist philosophies. I thought I had rejected all of that, greed, desire.

I am a fool. I am the picture of greed and desire. I hunger so deeply for something that I know in my heart cannot satisfy. Yet…. the longing persists. The pain gets worse as I see my consequences.

Now all that remains is how to go forward. There is no past, because that which cannot be changed is only data to process. There is no one else qualified to answer, because no one else must hold the weight.

I am alone. Yet here, silently in the dark, I feel that other one standing near. Silent, waiting for a new voice. I sense there are many things I do not know about, perhaps. This one thing I know is real, and deny God all you want, but the void is real. It lives inside of us all. That hunger that no eating fills, and that tiredness that no sleep can satisfy. We drink alcohol, we fill our lives with distraction. Behind all the noise and the clutter, that void which knows no depth eats at us. It’s waiting right where we are trying not to look. It doesn’t think, feel, or reason. I don’t even think it’s good or bad, apart from being rather sinister. Humans are conditioned to be afraid of the dark….. why be afraid of darkness, when it allows rest. Silence is the most deadly and frightening foe of things with voices.

Heaven help me (literally)