Saint Anger

Like a volcano I tremble and shake before the steaming hot in saint anger of my long melted core of a soul. Trying to regain, rebuild it and release it, to be able to spread my wings again. Ruled by those above, their unfairness makes me unstable wanting to erupt too often. Yet I know that this would only show I am weak as well I would burn those around me which I don’t intend to.

Keeping this anger on a leash takes great effort and from time to time it hinders pieces of the soul and corrupts your mind to agree with it. So what stops it all? Is it a girl in my heart or something else?

It is in my nature to suppress all the negative. This ball of suppressed emotions black in colour is bigger than my soul, yet I manage to roll it safely along my path but how long before it gets out of control?

Writing to set him free.

I was just getting Paulina ready for her first day in school tomorrow. She is doing an Animal Care course and I am very proud of her.  Gathering the necessary stuff I came across an old notebook where I found some of my writing from exactly 4 years ago and I wanted to share and see If my way of writing is changing over time.

A writer is what I wish to become. Unprepared on the path of ink I walk. Unaware of struggles and downfalls, for which I do not care as it is for me and not you. If I am destined to be bad then let it be. I am writing not for the reader but for the joy and most of all to set my soul free and be at ease. For which I can not speak about what poisons my mind and soul as the combination to such abilities has been taken away from me long time ago. Therefore I allow my soul to take over and guide the hand holding the pen, and let out this black river of words onto the paper. The only way I know how to truly express myself.

As soon as the ink connects with the paper another side of me wakes up. The one which was suppressed and silenced for too long. Now it is time to say what it was not allowed, to express its feelings, sorrows and emotions. This other side of me which I cherish yet don’t know how to connect with it any other way but to write. The ridiculous and the sublime. The ridiculous is how long I struggle to reach it, the sublime what it has to say. The person inside of me locked away at whom I may only look at as if behind metal bars. All alone, he sits there gathering his thoughts waiting for the moment in which he can convert therm into ink. When he takes over control his passion to express himself is too powerful for my body to stop. The stranger inside me shares his stories with me and I share mine with him. The only one who does not judge or comments when tears fall onto the pages. He shows support for he lived through the same. Soon enough I will unlock his cage set him free to let him be me and me be him for we are one and contaminate the mind of others with our ink if it will be destined. If not then we will forge our own destiny and walk our own path so he may share his story with you.

Sleep Paralysis

I wanted to write a post on sleep paralysis but after reading this beautiful description I just decided to repost this from Zairron Plaguestrider at have a read and subscribe to him.

You wake in the midnight darkness of your room, adrenaline flush in your system from the terror of your nightmare riddled sleep. You struggle to open your eyes but the leaden veil of sleep lays oppressively heavy crushing the strength from your body leaving you empty. Unbidden the thought arises that you have been restrained or drugged, the image assaulting you with waves of frustration and panic. Inhaling as deeply as you can manage, fighting to maintain calm, the feeling of weight on your chest is preventing you from taking a complete breath. With each failed attempt to regain some sense of control in your own body you are left feeling more helpless, your eyes grow hot with tears which well up but even they lack the strength to flow.

It feels like you’re trapped in the prison made from your own body for hours, though in the silence and dark you have no sense of the passage of time. After the longest time you swear you feel a twitch in your fingers and you realise that at some point your eyes had managed to partially open without your noticing. Emboldened you struggle again without success before surrendering to the futility once more.
Beyond the door a nearly inaudible creak pierces your heart with an icy shard of terror. You imagine that there is someone in your home, here where you should be alone, as you are unable to move and utterly helpless. Another creak, closer this time, and louder. You fight with every fibre of your soul, pleading and crying within your own mind to the implacable indifference of your body. Betrayal, more painful for its source. Fear, discomfort and emptiness, define your being. Just beyond your door you feel the presence come to a pause, the subtle shift in the floorboards, in the air pressure, all the more obvious in the utter isolation of the night.

The door creaks, gently. So soft and subtle that it almost could be your imagination. From the corner of your barely opened eyes you can see it drifting open, the glacial momentum every bit as imperceptible as the sound. Surreal and dreamlike, if you can’t move your, you wish at least you could close your eyes again, or look away, anything to escape the indescribable horror you feel just out of sight. A single hot tear streams down the side of your face.
You watch the door as it creeps agonisingly open with steadily building anxiety growing in your chest, seeking to burst from your throat but unable to form a whisper, let alone a scream. A hint of movement stirs in the shadows that surround the door, almost completely open now, only the complete darkness prevents you from seeing it. The shadows undulate in rhythmic motions, growing steadily as they approach the foot of your bed.

A heavy imprint pushes down on the mattress. You feel the weight on your feet as it climbs with the same unrelentingly slowness that opened the door. A flicker of something in a sliver of moonlight that peaks through the window, what could have been a hand or a claw appears for only a second before being lost to the shadow once more. The weight had crested your legs, the all unthinkable nature of what is happening to you blurs the sensations into a storm of abject terror, culminating with the mass comes to rest upon your chest. You cannot breath, hyperventilation and the asphyxiation crush strangle you and you feel spots appear in your vision one by one blacking out even the faintest traces of light. In the last moment of fading vision you witness a face approaching you, the hideous grin and foul breath sparks with in you the will to battle one last time to throw off this paralysis. Screaming and thrashing in your mind, you feel a twitch in your fingers, heat flowing upwards from them enters your chest and shatters the spike impaling your heart and with a scream you tear yourself from the mattress and…

It is morning. Drenched in sweat and dizzy from your rapid breaths, you look around. The door to your room is closed, the light shins thinly through the cracks in your curtains and you are alone. The tears finally come and your sob bitterly in your bed.