In society people are often told that they simply don’t cut
it. Either their attire is horrid, their body type is unacceptable, or for
whatever reason one can think of people can be unfit for ‘decent’ society.
Media often does not help the idea on what exactly human perfection is, causing
many people to have low self-esteem and have little to no confidence in their appearance.This can lead to destructive behaviors and disorders which is overall unhealthy- to both body and soul.
This should not be so. I often wonder why we let media and other
people tell us how we should look. People come in all shapes and sizes. People
have different tastes in hairstyles and attire. How is right and who is wrong?
All are right and no one is wrong. People should have the ability to decide for
themselves what is liked and who they are.
Oftentimes it is difficult to be yourself in a world so
unforgiving. It is easier to conform that to be happy with who you are, who you
were meant to be. What is lost in taking that path is the person you could have
been, the potential only you had. To be yourself takes great courage, but it is
a courage needed, valued, and looked up to by others fighting for the strength
to be who they are.
The media should not decide your image for you. Your weight, your height, your face, your
voice, your body type, your hair, your everything- it is all you. Not them.
Never be afraid to express yourself, no matter the opposition. It is better to
be who you are, than to go through your life trying to be what others expect.
No matter how hard you try to please everyone- everyone will always come up
lacking and someone will find something to fault you for- no matter what you
do. So please yourself, be happy with yourself. If you can’t be proud of who
you are, if you don’t know who you are- then how accurately can other people
know these things?
Be yourself. It’s the best thing you can do for your soul. Don’t
know who you are? There is no time like right now to find out.
Accept Yourself, because you are beautiful just being you!
Most people who know me know that I am bisexual. There are
many stereotypes about bisexuals that simply are not true. We are greedy, we do
not actually exist, we are confused, we need to pick a side, we are not able to
commit. These things are false. To say a person can only love one gender is
like saying one can only love someone with blue eyes. It is not greedy to be
able to fall in love and be attracted to more than one gender. If anything, it
shows how much love the person can possess.
What I hate to hear the most is that bisexuals do not exist.
We are simply confused individuals who need to choose a side and stick with it.
Sadly, this idea is very prevalent within the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and
Transgendered (LGBT) community. It is hurtful to know that the people who are
treated as second class citizens, the brunt of bullies and social opposition,
would choose to ignore, and scorn, the sexual orientation of one of their own,
so to speak (that is to say someone who is not heterosexual).
It is any wonder then, why heterosexuals do not often take
the LGBT community seriously when there is so much fighting within? Since when
did the community get so stuck up that only certain people who be this or that
and NO ONE could be this way or that way. It sometime seems as if the only
orientations welcome in the community is lesbian and gay, as Transgendered
often feels the brunt of ostracism even more acutely that bisexuals. Now would
challenge and say that transgender doesn’t belong because it is not a sexual
preference, it is a gender identity.
The thing about transgendered is it can (I say can, but it
depends on the person) take a transgendered a long time to understand that he
or she is in fact transgendered. They can often question their sexual
orientation and wonder where they fit in within a world that is cisgendered and
heretosexual. Lesbians, gays, and bisexuals can often feel the same volatile
emotions as we figure out who we are. Quite frankly, we are a minority and as
we have been the brunt of cruelty, I feel that the community should not embrace
cruelty to others, no matter their gender or orientation.
On this same score, heterosexuals need to stop the hate just
as much as some LGBT need to do. Countless lives taken, countless lives
destroyed, countless CHILDREN who have opts to end it rather than face another
day of bullying. It needs to end and it needs to end now. Religion and politics
are no reason to throw tolerance to the winds and treat people as if they were
scum or less than human. If a religion teaches hate and it is all you learn
from that religion, the religion and your thoughts on it need to be
reevaluated. If you practice hatred of others because a politician does, then
you need to reevaluate that politician and why you agree.
You can imagine how hard it can be for some bisexuals. Many
times bisexuals are not accepted in the LGBT community. Nor are bisexuals
accepted in a heterosexual community. We are neither. No, we are not half gay
and half straight. We are not some type of hybrid human. We are bisexual and
there is nothing hybrid about it.
Nor should we be forced to choose a side, which many
bisexuals end up doing through pressure from friends, family, and community.
But there is not choice. Being with a man for the rest of my life would make me
no more straight that being with a woman the rest of my life would make me a lesbian.
Does that mean I would cheat, lack commitment, and not be able to stay faithful
should I find someone I want to be in a relationship with?
Of course not. A person can be married and think someone is
attractive and might ponder the sexual possibility but never act on it. Most
(if not all) people do this already, namely with actors and actresses. It is an
attraction, not an impulse and a lack of control that causes us to have sexual
relations with every consenting adult we come into contact with.
I believe the biggest problem with the LGBT community, as
well as the heterosexual majority is that there is a substantial lack of
education. People make assumptions and snap judgments and never seek to discover
the truth. They believe what they are told and never seek to delve deeper.
We need to delve deeper and see everyone as humans with
emotions and stop hating each other based on our differences. A sexual
orientation (though from some I do believe it may be a preference) is not one a
person can change, at least I don’t believe it is. Bisexuals cannot change for
you or anyone and acceptance is easier on the soul than hatred is. We should
give it a try. It’s rather peaceful on the tolerant side of the fence. Will you
join me?
First of all, I hope that everyone had a wonderful World
Goth Day on the 22nd.
I wanted to continue my thoughts on morality and bullying,
but change it slightly, so I have decided to talk of Sophie Lancaster as well as hate and tolerance
in general.
I am sure many Goths are very familiar with the name of Sophie
Lancaster and her story, so I am not going to go into the greatest details on
it. The basics are that Sophie and her boyfriend, Robert, were walking in a
public park, were seen by a small group of teenage boys and attacked for their
attire, which was Goth in nature. First they attacked Robert, and Sophie,
pleading for his life, was attacked next. Her boyfriend lived, but she did not.
As far as I know, those involved still see nothing wrong with what they did and
felt it justified because they were Goths.
What is it about those who are different that instills so
much hate in people? Why are people so quick to be negative and harsh and
cruel, but hesitate to be kind and stand up in a respectful manner for what
they believe in?
Sophie and Robert did nothing to elicit any sort of crime
against them and no one deserves that sort of treatment regardless. But people
are quick to judge, quick to slander, quick to hurt. People often forget that
we are all human.
I have always found it sad that media and others tend to portray
Goth in such a negative fashion. More often than not, people have an image of
what Goth is that is not true and this image invokes hate which can lead to
horrible actions and deadly consequences. At this same time, I have found that
Goths tend to be passive and tolerant, accepting of others and their lifestyles
and beliefs. Not at all as we are portrayed by so many venues.
Then we have the very few that are role models in the media.
Take for instance Abby from NCIS. She is a good Goth role model. However,
though I love Abby’s character, she is used more often than not as a ‘kinky’
sex symbol.I don't exactly see this as a good thing. Not all Goths are sexy, and not all Goths are kinky in bed. Goth is a music subculture, not a BDSM, satanic orgy what consists of vampirism and loose morals. (not that there is anything wrong with BDSM, Satanism, orgies, or vampirism if that is what you like!)
What I find most depressing about the violence against
Sophie and Robert (other than Sophie’s death) is that Sophie pleaded to be left
alone. Even in such a perilous situation, she was pleading tolerance. And they
had not listened, they had not cared.
Hate is a terrible thing. It can eat the soul, destroy your
humanity. It can make you angry and lash out at others. Hate is not healthy and
one should always be mindful of the hate they carry and try to understand why
they carry it, and if possible rid yourself of it.
No one deserves to die for being different. No one deserves
hate. And no one deserves to be treated uncivilly. I think we, as people, have
largely forgotten what to do with humanity. All the fighting, all the senseless
deaths and intolerance. Sophie should never have had to die .she should not
have been a martyr for the Goth subculture. No one should.
I often think that people are so quick to hurt others and
cause negativity because it is easier than standing up for yourself and being kind.
But then, as mentioned in my last post, I also think there is a bloodthirsty part
of us that people simply long for and it shows every now and then in our
actions towards others and towards ourselves.
Let’s stop the hate, people. Because another instance like
Sophie Lancaster and Robert Maltby should never happen. Sophie’s mother started
the S.O.P.H.I.E Foundation in honor of her daughter. It S.O.P.H.I.E stands for “Stomp
Out Prejudice, Hatred, and Intolerance Everywhere.” I hope we can someday do
just that.
This post is dedicated to ALL who have been victimized.
I have long believed that everything
in life is relative, that is to say that what is true and acceptable for me,
may not be so for someone else. I feel that this relativism ‘law’ applies to
all things, however absurd a view that may be. I am entitled to that view; just
as someone else is entitled to refute it. After all, what is an opinion if not
blind faith in one’s own intelligence, however right or wrong?
When speaking of polar opposites, such
as right and wrong, one may- or even should-ask if such extremes should even
exist. After all, if everything is
relative, and nothing is wholly one way or the other, then surely there can be
no extremes. Everything is a grey area. In my mind, not even a purely
altruistic person exists, nor do I believe no one person ever alive – now, in
the past, or in the future, could ever be fully immoral in every regard. Every
‘evil’ person has good moments, pure moments, and every ‘saint’ has a tendency
to want to ‘sin’. In my mind, this is human nature. We cannot be only one way
all the time- the human race is too dynamic to stay so unfailingly constant in
personality.
If this be the case- where does
morality fit in, why should we be moral creatures, and what exactly does
morality mean? Questions like this could puzzle a person if one thinks on it
long enough, because, as stated above- these answers vary from person to
person…or does it- does it really?
I am not sure how many of you, my dear
readers, are familiar with Emile Durkheim or his work. I am utterly enthralled
by him. Emile Durkheim was a sociologist (the father of sociology, actually),
and a profoundly intelligent man. He wrote on topics such as suicide, religion,
crime, and morality.
Durkheim believed that people consist of two
warring halves. The individual self and the social self. We must give some of
our individuality to progress, attend to, and be a part of, the societies we
create.
According to Durkheim
“The painful
character of the dualism of human nature is explained by this hypothesis. There
is no doubt that if society were only the natural and spontaneous development
of the individual, these two parts of ourselves would harmonize….In fact,
however, society has its own nature….Therefore, society cannot be formed or
maintained without our being required to make perpetual and costly sacrifices.
Because society surpasses us, it obliges us to surpass ourselves, and to
surpass itself, a being must, to some degree, depart from its nature—a
departure that does not take place without causing more or less painful
tensions…” (Elementary Forms [1914] 1973, p. 163).
In this way, we think, on a basic
level, as a whole, or what he calls the collective consciousness. It is not so
unlike the Borg from the Star Trek series when you stop to think about it, or a
worldwide computer. We are individuals functioning and existing together,
creating our moral codes on a whole, cultural scale that can, for the most
part, appease everyone and brings us all together for a common goal- social
harmony and the idea of justice, regardless of individual opinion. The societal dictates outweigh the dictates of one and to appease the society we must abide by the moral laws therein.
Through this process of conforming, while at
the same time constructing social morality, one must realize that though
morality in and of itself is subjective on an individual level- on a cultural
level, basic morality holds true for most people and therefore people within a
given society are prone to the same moral ideas, for better or worse. So what
exactly is morality? I like to think of morality in the same context that
Durkheim defines crime:
“An act is criminal when it offends
strong and defined states of the collective consciousness. In other words, we
must not say that an action shocks the common consciousness because it is
criminal, but rather that it is criminal because it shocks the common
consciousness. We do not reprove it because it is a crime, but it is a crime
because we reprove it” (Durkheim, [1893] 1933: 80-81).
If you replace ‘(a) crime’ with immoral, then you have my definition of what exactly morality means to me. When something
offends, it therefore has the potential status of ‘immoral’ behavior.
Now, in one’s
life (be it only once or many times over) a person will come into contact with
a person or people who takes delight in being offensive in such an intellectual
manner as to seem logical, while at the same time proving his or herself to be
utterly devoid of all common dignity, decency and morality. Is the person(s) who behave in such a manner sociopathic, trolling the internet; cyber-bullying
or bullies other people in general? Should we even care?
We shouldn't care about the cruel ideas of others, but the sad fact is most people do. The likely answer is that we care
because it shocks. People flock to negativity and disgraceful gossip and
opinions just as the Romans flocked to the coliseum to watch people and animals
be tortured and killed, and why even today when some trauma happens be it
physical or emotional, people are apt to witness, rather than act and make the
situation better. It’s the shock, the understanding that it is exciting in its
misery and it gives us a glimpse of the bloodthirsty part of us that we tamed
long ago, but still has a tendency to rear its ugly head when the smell of
blood is fresh and near.
However ‘intoxicating’ such behavior
might be (either for perverse pleasure, pride, offense, or what-have-you,) the
behavior displayed by the creator(s) of the vulgarity is committing social
immorality. Why do I make such an extreme suggestion that the person(s) who
seek out others to hurt for spite are socially immoral- because it is a
cultural recognition, both in America and abroad, that bullying is wrong, can
be considered a crime, and for many- is considered an immoral act against other
individuals.
Such vocal vulgarity against others is
tolerated because of free speech, which I defend, even when I feel it best a
person not speak at all for the sake of both self-respect and the pain the person(s) inflicts knowingly on others (such as
Westboro Baptist Church and Terry Jones from Gainesville Florida). But, with
that said, exactly how far can one take free speech? When does free speech turn
into hate speech and when does hate speech become a crime? Now, in England,
there are laws in place for hate speech, but the defining of these laws are
lines I do not know personally. I also know that there are laws, again both in
America and abroad, in regards to bullying. I also know that Florida- the state
I live in- is one the states that have laws against cyber-bullying. I also
believe that the modern day laws need to catch up to modern day problems. The
bullying can go across countries, the hate speech can be vile, and the laws are
not enough for the socially immoral person(s).
Please note that I said socially
immoral (and even social morality is subject to change with each generation, taking for instance slavery, racial intolerance and the present day civil debate on marriage equality). I do not believe that any person can be utterly despicable in every regard, because, though I believe that people
such as this takes pleasure in being a menace to other people (either online,
in person, or both) I also do not believe the person(s) responsible to be
wholly immoral, evil, or what-have-you. Again, as said in the beginning, I do
not believe such singularity exists in the human nature. We all have moments of goodness, just as well all have moments of maliciousness.
But the doings of people who seem to do everything possible to make the lives of other people utterly miserable, begs the question: why do people prey on
others, especially over the internet where such attempts seems so cowardly and
contemptuous since the person(s) can hide behind their screen and never have to
face in person the ones that they slander?
According to Durkheim:
“The totality of
moral regulations really forms about each person an imaginary wall, at the foot
of which a multitude of human passions simply die without being able to go
further. For the same reason—that they are contained—it becomes possible to
satisfy them. But if at any point this barrier weakens, human forces—until now
restrained—pour tumultuously through the open breach; once loosed, they find no
limits where they can or must stop. Unfortunately, they can only devote
themselves to the pursuit of an end that always eludes them” (Moral Education,
p. 42).
“The notion of the infinite, then,
appears only at those times when moral discipline has lost its ascendancy over
man’s will. It is the sign of attrition that emerges during periods when the
moral system, prevailing for several centuries, is shaken, failing to respond
to new conditions of human life, and without any new system yet contrived to
replace that which has disappeared” (Moral Education: [1925] 1961, p. 43).
“Whenever moral rules lack the necessary
authority to exert, to a desirable degree, a regulatory influence on their
behavior, we see society gripped by a dejection and pessimism reflected in the
curve of suicides (Moral Education: [1925] 1961, p. 68)
“During periods when society is disorganized
and, as a result of its decadence has less power to exact the commitment of
individual wills, and when, consequently, egoism has freer reign—these are
calamitous times. The cult of the self and the notion of the infinite go
together” (Moral Education, p. 72).
Perhaps the ego or morality
compass has gone astray in people such as this. Maybe the person(s) have a lack
of compassion and empathy. Maybe the person(s) needs an ego check and needs barriers desperately. Maybe the person(s) are simply cowardly if
hiding behind a computer screen to fill whatever voids, physical constraints,
or emotional deprivations that he or she is enduring or has endured. Bullying
brings the person(s) empowerment, just as a raping gives the rapist the
euphoria of control. So long as the person is given credence, is gaining
attention, and getting his or her high through such means of intellectual degradation,
it will never cease and the person(s), like the gladiators of old, will have
the moment of glory, however vicious. But
never forget, for all who are victimized by those who cause harm that even a
gladiator can fall given the proper methods of extinction (such as ignoring,
kindness, understanding, getting law enforcement involved, etc…).
So, even though morality is relative,
we are still humans and share common ideas in the barest, most basic of
ideologies. Therefore, things such as respect, manners, and proper etiquette
will always be something I value, not only in myself, but in others. Those who
have little to no social or public morality are not worth my concern. Morality, though relative, is needed for
civil human discourse and daily ‘public’ functioning within a culture. We all
have our predispositions to do harm, but we also have predispositions to rise
above it. It is called cognitive ability and the evolutionary trait of being
able to think critically, subjectively, and socially. It is such a pity when
the person(s) behind the neurons and synapses uses the connections within the
brain to hinder rather than encourage in productive ways.
If you have been victimized by those who would do you harm, never let them rule your life- your decisions. Get help. Learn your laws. Please, do not ever let anyone break your spirit.
Soon the two
friends left us and we were two like souls living as one. We stayed together in
that dwelling, where occult came alive and life was nothing more than a dark eroticism
from my deepest fantasies, for seven years. In that time he became my teacher,
my friend, my confidante, my lover, and my life. He was everything I needed to
feel alive- both body and soul.
Ours was a
relationship few could comprehend. The nights of ecstasy, the hours of
intellectual discourse, and the time spent learning, experimenting, and just
being together. Words between us were barely needed. A touch, a kiss, a look, a
motion, could say more than a hundred words ever could. Our methods of communication
transcended the verbal and reached levels of such acute awareness that seems so
impossible as to be hard to explain. We knew each other’s minds, just as we
knew each other’s souls and bodies.
One day, he
and I awoke rather melancholy and I could not explain why. Something this day
was wrong, different in a negative way I was no longer use to since becoming
joined with this man. I knew he felt it most acutely as well. His cheerful
personality, his light heart, and free spirit were weighed down by thoughts so
turbulent, it hurt him physically.
We decided to
walk in our favorite place- the ancient looking cemetery down the lane. And so
we did. While walking, I took note of his physicality as I often did. He had
changed much in the time we were together. His clothes, which he still made
himself, had changed. Instead of different materials and schemes thrown
together hap hazardously, the patterns and materials were distinct and the embodiment
of the elegant man he had become. Gone
was his rebelliousness, his brashness, replaced with understanding and wisdom.
His hair had not changed over the time we had been together, still holding the
random braids, the multi-colored shades of brown on black. I loved his hair
dearly.
We walked a
way down the gravel path within the graveyard. Normally the sight of the old
stones gave us peace, today it did nothing. We were both as sad as we had been
when we awoke. If I had known how to ease his pain- I would have, but my own was so
server that I felt no amount of effort would be sincere enough. I felt like crying, though I know not why.
After a while
we came to stand by a cement bench that stood just a few feet away from the cremation
section of the cemetery. He squeezed my hand and continued on alone and I knew
it was something he desperately needed to do. I sat on the cemented bench and
watched him as he walked through the cast iron gate the set the cremations apart
from the other graves. He knelt in front of an articulately created gargoyle fountain and murmured
lowly, so lowly I could only make out his brilliant baritone that always made
my heart beat faster for hearing it.
When he was
finished, he stood once more, closed the cast iron gate and sat with me on the
bench. Then he just held me. My heart was breaking for him- for me. But why?
Suddenly, I knew why. The reason echoed clearly in my head as if spoken to me
directly from the gods. He feared my leaving him. The notion was so preposterous
as to be laughable. Leave him? He was my soul come to life. How could I ever do
that? To leave him would be the death of me, I was sure for I myself could not
handle such a tragedy.
Yet as these
thoughts pounded my head- I knew there was a nagging truth to the fear.
Something was wrong with me. I was weak and did not feel right. It was
unnatural. I looked deeply into his chocolate eyes, eyes that reflected his
soul, his mind, his longings and I knew the truth of what was happening to us-
to me. It was a knowledge that struck such fear in me that I trembled.
I knew, then,
that what we had- the time together, had been nothing more than what we would
call a human dream. I was dreaming. No, not dreaming. I was on a different
plain of existence, somewhere not attached to my mortal body. I did not belong
on this plain and could stay no longer. The life force was returning to my
physical self in the world I belonged in so long as my body drew breath.
I also knew
that he had known this truth since the moment he saw me. It was the reason he
had avoided me. He knew that he and I
were soul-mates, twin flames and he was not sure if he could stand parting with
me when it was my time to go back my mortality. He knew I was just visiting, my
stay was not permanent. Yet- he decided to be with me, despite the knowledge
and had not once let it affect our relationship once he won the war within
himself to finally approach me. I loved him all the more for being able to be
with me despite his knowledge. I am not sure I could have been so strong. I do
know, though, that was our deep love that had kept me there so long, but I
could sustain the connection no longer.
If I could
have given my flesh up to stay with him- my life as a mortal would have ended
right then, but it was not meant to be. I had things to do before I could truly
be with him and we both knew it. He gave me a weak smile, understanding that I
now knew what he had tried so diligently to protect me from. We sat there,
for how long I know not. We just sat there, holding each other. No words, no impassioned
kisses or caresses. Just pure intimacy in the joy of being held by the one your
soul belongs with. Slowly, I felt myself weaken. I could sense my physical
body. The world around me began to dim. I was fearful and insane in agony. He
comforted me even as he disappeared.
I knew the
moment I reentered my body. I came fully awake, and I cried. What had been
merely hours in this life, was years in the other. After my tears had dried, I immediately
wrote down all I could remember, scared I would forget him. I need never have
worried. The memory is just as vivid now as it was when I experienced it. This
happened a little over five years ago. I think of him often, both on what was
written here and what I keep only for myself to know. I miss him. I long for
him. I wonder if it was a dream, if he was real and perhaps alive somewhere- in
this plain or another. I have never dreamt of him again, but I cannot help but
feel I will one day be reunited with him. However, until then, all I have is
the short memory and the worst cruelty of all- I cannot remember his name.
Because of technical difficulties. My computer will not start, and I am
likely going to have to purchase a new one. Because of this unexpected
obstacle, I will be unable to post the second part of my last posting,
but I am working diligently to get another computer, transfer my
information, and post part two. Until then, I thank you all in advance
for your support and understanding. For now, I will leave you with a
poem!
Oh Night, how your darkness surrounds me
Engulfing my soul in black wings
Oh Night, what a spell you have on me,
As you lift me into Saturn's Rings.
Oh Night, I long for your presence
The day is but a slap in the face
Oh Night, please will you not take me
Into your blackened embrace?
Oh Night, only you give me joy,
Your solitude calms the day's fears
Oh Night, only you give me comfort
The sunlight cares not for my tears.
Oh Night, you are so understanding,
Only you turn my worries to bliss
Oh Night, you fill every void,
As I turn my head to your kiss.
Oh Night, I knew from the moment you touched me
That nothing would e'er feel as you do
Oh Night, I am done with the daydream
With all things of light I am through.
I
have been granted in this life, the rare privilege of meeting my soul-mate, my
twin flame, my other half. My soul-mate, in this meeting was within the body of
a man. A very gothic man, with a soul as dark as my own. I saw him across the
way and my heart nearly stopped. He had long, straight, flowing raven locks of
hair, with streaks of cinnamon brown, braids here and there scattered about in
a rational frenzy. His clothes were made from different materials, with no set
scheme. He looked ancient, but modern, sexy yet subtle, mysterious yet
familiar. He was the personification of everything I was, everything I longed
to be, everything I felt and desired and loved and it scared me.
It
was quite obvious it frightened him as well. Time after time we would see each
other as our paths caused us to be in the same place fairly often, but we would
never talk to one another. He would steadfastly ignore me; pretend I did not
exist, though when he looked at me, his eyes spoke not of disinterest, but
something deep and unfathomable. It was something I could not explain. I longed
for him secretly. I was fascinated with him. His every move entranced me,
called to me, though I refused to show it and I ignored him just as stoically
as he did me. Constantly and without fail he was want to pretend I existed not,
choosing instead to focus all of his attention on the two friends he was never
without and he would avoid me at all cost. His animosity toward me perplexed me.
Was
it because I was Goth, like himself and his friends? Was there something he
seen inside of my soul when he looked into my eyes that he found disturbing? I knew
not. But I did know that despite his behavior, and my returned avoidance of
him, that I wanted nothing more in this life than to know him. I could not
explain the desire. I was a solitary creature. I did not like people and
refused to be in society longer than I had to be. I never wanted company or
longed for companionship- until he came along.
One
day I heard of a Gothic theatre and decided, perhaps against my better judgment,
to visit the building. It was dark inside, and the theatre was complied of
strategically placed tables with accompanying chairs, the stage small and
taking up an entire wall in front of all the seating. It was more of a lounge than a theatre in my
eyes, but quite comfortable. Each table had its own lighting and I choose one
by the stage and opened the book I carried with me and began reading. I know
not how long I sat there in the exile of my imagination, but suddenly all lights became
dim. It dawned on me that they must be rehearsing for an upcoming show. As I
was not asked to leave, I decided to sit back and enjoy the dark rehearsal.
In
a fury, all the Goths came into the theatre, dancing in a way one should only
dance for the gods. It was beautiful, those movements. Words would never do it
justice. Then I saw him, dancing like a heathen at harvest. He was perfect in
every way. All at once, the gothic dancers started pairing up, including him.
It was at that time, he seemed to notice me. Whether he knew I was there before
or not I do not know, but by the look in his eyes, I would think he had known
from the moment he waltzed in.
The
pairs all began kissing and holding each other, each forging a sexual stream of
their own brand of intoxication. The heat they let off flew across the air,
turning up the temperature by notable degrees. None seemed to notice or care,
but continued on their sexual exploration of mouths and embraces. Except one.
Him. The Goth man who seemed to haunt me. He was kissing his partner for all he
was worth, and she him. But he was looking at me. The entire time, he looked
only at me as if saying “I am doing this to her, but I want to be doing it to
you. It is you I am kissing, am holding against my body, just you…” I cannot
remember the rest of the play.
When
the performance was over, those involved chatted for a while and then left,
until only the Gothic man and his two friends remained. He kept staring at me,
and refused to look away, his face held an expression of self conflict and
hinted at an internal hell that raged inside his soul. I thought it best that I
leave. As I came to that decision, he also came to a conclusion as he quickly
approached me. Before I knew what was happening he stood before me and I had
nowhere to run, no means of escape. I felt panicked by what seemed a sudden
interest to my person by such an extraordinary man whom I had long since felt, deep all-consuming attraction
for.
He
stared imploringly into my eyes, his own eyes held a sea of dark brown that melted my heart and warmed
my soul. After a few moments of the silent exchange of uncertainties he said two
words. Two words that shattered my existence in waves of sheer ecstasy and
fear. He simply said, in a voice echoing
with resolution “You’re mine.”
In
the next minute he had grabbed me and had lifted me out of the chair, silently pulling
me along to follow him, his hands around my arm as if frightened I was going to run from
him. It was something he need never have worried about. I would have followed
him anywhere at that point. His two friends trailed behind and came with us as
he took me to a place I can only describe as a lair and I was quite sure it
was his place of residence. It looked like nothing I had ever seen before. It
was as dark and as gothic as anything could ever hope to be, a perfect mixture
of subtle paganism mixed elegantly into all things occult.Thus our journey together truly began.
URL Change - Early Warning!
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Hi guys! I've registered the URL *amyasphodel.blogspot.co.uk* - am
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Hello everyone! It's the morning of October 31, and that can only mean
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