The Pit

It is inevitable.

No matter how hard you try to steer clear of the pit, you stumble down or get shoved back into it, time and time again. One minute you would be walking around, like the unsuspecting ignorant fuck that you are... and the next, you are falling down the side of it, the light above you slowly diminishing, until it becomes a ghostly orb etched in the core of your retina. 

You sink deep down into the seemingly infinite depths of your pit, groping around in the abysmal gloom. And there, at the very base of your self imposed confinement, you find Her. Your inner Demon. 

She stands leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes alive with malice, fangs gleaming in hunger. Ready to hiss out the phrase She covets ... and the words you loathe to hear, 'I told you so.' 

You scream and you wail, you rant and you rage, scratching your bloody fingertips at the slimy rotting walls of your prison. All the while She circles you, twisting and tangling Herself around you. Sinking Her talons into you, fangs biting and tearing deep into you, like a vulture at it's carrion,... until you cease to react altogether. Until you curl up in a ball and lie there at Her feet, writhing in agony. Until time, as you know it, ceases to exist. 

After a while, She grows weary of picking at the carcass that is your soul ... and now that She is sated, you feel Her mutate into something less terrifying, something less vicious. She holds you up, slaps you, soothes you the only way She knows how. She grasps your jaw and points it upward. 'Crawl up' She hisses. 'Crawl out. You can't stay down here. There isn't enough room here for the both of us... and we both know what will happen if I'm the one to leave.' 

Not a statement, but a threat. 

She drags you by the hair and throws you against the grime of the wall. 'Crawl up!' She screams. 'Crawl up! Crawl up! Crawl up!' Her waves of fury beat against your already battered body. Over and over, until you scramble up the jagged walls of your pit in desperation, slipping, falling and clinging on for dear life. 

Because if you fall, She waits down there, Her talons scraping loudly against the walls, once more biding Her time. Until your next descent. Until She can feed again. 

So you crawl back up, gaping wounds, bloody limbs and all. Because anything is better than being a quivering mass of flayed flesh down there, completely at Her mercy.

"On an island..."

They say no man is an island. I'm inclined to disagree. I believe that every individual is indeed an island unto him/herself.

You, yourself determine the size, the shape, the climate, the terrain & the potency of this island. And those who are part of your life, be it family, friends, lovers or even those who bear ill will towards you, they are all visitors who frequent a stay.

At any given time, you are at perfect liberty to cast visitors off your island & watch them sail away, leaving you to thrive in your contentment... or to stew alone in your despair.

Some of these visitors, they stay more often & longer than others. Some trespass. Some beat and break down the carefully constructed walls of your sanctuary. And some, a blessed few, respect the distance they are kept at & your inherent need for privacy.

Then there are those who you give free reign to. A select few, perhaps a family member, a friend and more often then not, a lover. Some of them, they crack open & uproot the very foundation of your domain and leave it in ruins... leave you to grope around in the devastation they left in their wake. To put the pieces back together... to rebuild all over again.

But then there are those who nurture the land, those who beautify it. They take residence on your island without you even knowing how it came about. They make the sunsets appear more glorious with their mere presence. They make your island lush, green & potent.

Until one day, a day no different then any other, they leave. Some by choice and some without... and all you are left with are memories to be cherished till the end of time as you know it.

At the end of the day, you alone reside on your island & preside over it.

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..."

A lull of 5 years and I'm blogging once again. More so a hiatus of the inclination to put pen on paper (in this case; fingers to keyboard) than a hiatus of thought. Also, my less than reliable memory had stashed my brief dalliance with blogging somewhere in oblivion, which is why it took me this long to get back into it.

Ok, that was a lie. Not the part where I forgot, though. I really did forget about this & was a bit staggered by how different my 5 years younger self is to the current me. Anyway, in all honesty, I have actually been procrastinating the attempt to blog... & I have been thinking of starting one for quite a while. Ehem. Moving on.

So, I tried to create a blog today & to my astonishment, here it was, my old blog, waiting for me to return just as I left it, like the Shire did for Bilbo, pristine & unaffected. I return with war stories I cannot tell & a somewhat jaded soul. It has been quite an adventure ... with many trolls, goblins & dragons defeated.

Unlike Bildo, however, I have no reward to show for any of it. No small chests of silver & gold... nor an indestructible ring of immeasurable power. However, I did acquire a gorgeous gold necklace & a bracelet somewhere along the way... but then I'm straying far from the topic at hand.

There is much to be written. The soiled, grimy strands of thought tangling & untangling inside the muck of my brain are claustrophobic & desperate for release. Desperate for an outlet. As I told a fellow blogger earlier today, some things just need to be written down.

P.S: the references to The Hobbit were made in abundance owing to the fact that my bother's copy of it is occupying the sacred place of 'currently reading' on my nightstand. Some books, you just don't tire of reading. Amen.