Truly Alive

The world we live in is neither black nor white; it is merely an endless expanse of grey- a fog, a haze that clouds and chokes the mind in twisted euthanasia. Morals, scruples, politics, religion, philosophy, sexuality; all are hidden in a maze of smog, and we stumble around blindly hoping stupidly to find answers to them- when they aren't even there to begin with. That is why clarity is such a prized and precious thing and very few truly find it. You see it lies outside the maze, and those who have entered the mind trap therefore will never find it- there is no exit to the mental torment after all. Perhaps that is why a remorseless bastard such as myself has been endowed with the gift of awareness.

Reality for me now is merely the moment- and nothing more. It has no room for the idiotic worries and mindless concerns of daily life that tie us down. Nor does it have room for hopes and dreams, the ambitions we aspire to that cloud our judgement, and hide the rocks in our paths- leading to our downfall. No, my reality consists of the moment, the act, nothing more and nothing less. The orchestra has stopped, and I for the first time can hear my music playing- I shall honour its tune.

Revelations are pouring in; a torrent of truth transforms everything before me. Although there can be no such thing a black and white in our current world, as I said, I have the next best thing. The pollution has been driven away, and my vision now shows a world of sea and sky- both blue, both similar, but the eye can see the division between the two- absolute bliss after being constricted, restricted for so long.

However everything comes at a price, apparently. Is giving into years of desire such a bad thing however? That aching pounding craving that never quite goes away? That yearning which actually physically hurts when it goes unanswered? That need that calls my name and begs action whenever he graces a room with his presence? Today I didn't ignore my self; the passion, the hate, the demand- and I gained everything because of it.

I ejected myself from the rampant, chaotic reality you reside in; a bunch of sheep huddled in a flock, none of who can see past their limitations, past the night-time sky, wolves howl with laughter. Perhaps I may have lost my sanity, but that was a small price to pay to escape from the nightmare, the hellish existence of little more than death. I am now a God who has had his heart, the organ, removed.

My hands shake as I write, but not through fear, its excitement. My pulse throbs loud enough for all to hear, and manages to race even faster. I'm still dizzy from it all I guess, but adrenaline is such a potent drug, one should revel in the fact that it feels so damn good when he has the chance. I taste familiar copper in my mouth, and close my eyes. My blood, whilst not boiling, still contains a sweltering fire within it; I can feel it ebb and flow around my body. The air around me is electric. My senses don't have to scream any more; a whisper is a shout.

Why?

I jumped before I fell, and so my wings are not clipped. Not an angel of heaven or hell therefore, merely my own- subservient to none, I rise and fall at will. Some will say I conformed to expectations; the seed they knew would go bad. If that is the case then its not my fault, no-one bothered to cultivate me, I was scattered far from the field, you forgot me.

The night is silent, and a frigid wind shows promise of frost. Two colognes are still in the air; one speaks blandly of earth, the other of fire; flames burning in the sky- subtle and alluring. The world conveys itself to me, engulfing my senses, except my sight which is almost ethereal as it surveys the land. A scythe has struck my ties to this world and now it and I are separate, it rejects me because it fears me- as you will come to do also.

I am stronger than that however, and I will survive. These feelings, the messages that are appearing before me, the doors that have closed leaving the roof open- this can't all be for nothing, nor will I allow it to be.

Truly alive- that rather just about sums it all up. Two words, simple enough to be written onto the paper and conveyed to the reader, but far too complex and subjective to be absorbed by the mind and truly understood by it.

Likewise you could apply that explanation to me- the "boy" who everyone thinks they have all worked out, defined, and mentally categorised. However the perception of the unenlightened peasant is as narrow as a needle and thus innately flawed. The spectrum is a circle, but you wouldn't know, you don't float above it.

This isn't a cry for help, no; it's too late for the doctor. No tea and sympathy will placate me, anaesthetise me. I never said I was golden after all. If you control me then I am dead, and I much prefer living. Besides you will hate me as it is. I've snatched that carrot you've hung so close to me for all these years, the one that wasn't mine- and have done more damage than you ever feared.

Yes I am evil, and I will reside in the darkness- but I will love every minute of it, I am a Malfoy after all.