The Black Diary

WolfPack22 September 19, 1999

The tide is now coming in, and the waves are getting bigger. The wind breaks into a run, and the heavens open up, wide and majestic. The stars above us shine. A falling star, swiftly passes, and then -- gone. All too briefly a moment. It was just a minute before that I could see no stars in sight...
But now I see them brightly, all full of luster. They blink at each other like eyes talking in a secret language. Dusts making them appear as though they are twinkling. In our human eye, an illusion of beauty.
Aah.
Dusts bring the illusion, but our eyes make it. It brings us this beauty, but it also stings our eyes with pain.

For the second time, I was brought back to my senses by the crashing of the waves, breaking like thunder upon the shore. The lapping water is more than soothing as the earth moving when it gently slaps into my bare feet, making me sink an inch lower into the sand.
I feel the earth all around me as I closed my eyes. The earth moved not when I first stirred my eyes, nor struck an angel when I first let out my cry. But did let one single tear fall as I let myself die...

The second star shot across the heavens, streaking a fine line of memories. We were best of friends then, but she was kind, and I full of pride. We were never near anywhere than any truth had been. But we were fine before, as now we are not.

Roses grow in my garden everyday, but none that I could give to her. Words just stem out from my thoughts everytime I think, but none that I could say to her. Tears fall into my lap every minute, but none that I could show to her. She is my last living refuge. The cure that I tried to seek, the part of me that I tried to deny. The friend for me that I tried -- did betray.

A crackle of thunder broke my reverie. Rain was now pouring hard. It was just then that I realized I was crying.
But what the hell? So was the heavens.

I looked up and saw the heavens closed. There were no more stars in sight, no more shooting stars falling.
Only the dark clouds moving in, and thunder streaking across the night sky.

I smiled as I remembered the time with them.

"Come on, let us make a wish!" her voice echoed in my memory. It was but a distant past.

I opened my mouth to catch a raindrop. But then thought better of it, and slammed it shut.

The Beauty of a Paradox

I have a sadness. So compelling it drives me to be still. No world can move me, no tears can. No word can touch me, no face can. A sadness so compelling it drives me to be sad. A life so meaningless that it can only be called a void. A void no one can fill.

I long so much to be understood.

Why does it have to be that I need to succeed in typical things to be happy in a typical way?

I am happy in my sadness. In my world of grayness, I can only imagine the sorrows of black and white , and color loving people. Yes, they might feel joy, but in extreme joy there can only be extreme pain. And I can only remember so much as when I felt the same. So many things to be hurtful, yet so few to rejoice about.

Perhaps I have been catharized, dulled to the very end of my bones, numbed to the very sense of which I enjoyed. Yes. Perhaps I have been turned into granite. Unfeeling for so long.

Or am I?

In my grayness lies my safety. To feel neither joy nor pain. I am free, it seems; of the typical troubles of humanity. That endless search for eutopia and everything it holds dear. I have overtaken everyone in the race and gotten to the finish line first.

No one here.

Not a single soul in sight.

Have they all taken the wrong path, or am I the one who lost my way?

I can't be wrong. My assumptions of the universe can only be so true.

That time is a circle, and we are our own creators. That time does not end but goes back to the beginning. And in that beginning, we are our own creators. We created time, and we created space.

But I seem to forget that in the gloriousness of my solution lies the dillema. If everything comes to a circle, where does it all start? In a timeline that goes around, you cannot insert something that is not already there.

But that is the beauty of paradoxes.

It cannot be answered, but you can spend your whole life trying to.

Or you can sit here with me in my grayness and ponder:

Is there any other color here besides gray?

Sadness

I never knew that this is what it would feel like. And to think she (or maybe he) never grew more than the 3 mos. that would've given her/him that beating heart that we all take as a sign of life...

I don't know what to feel. It's painful to remember, to think about, when you know you could've had someone new in your life...

Know that joy you feel when you're expecting something awfully wonderful?

What if it never came?

To a dark void, and an empty place, that loved one waited...

No soul came...

No destiny given...

We love you, Lorien Aranelle.