And will the light continue to fade? – Until I am clouded completely in
darkness, unable to escape or be anything but a shadow? Is that where my
existence will end? Will it end?
I wonder if I will be able to see through this intense darkness, maybe
my sight will fail me and I will be blinded forever. Could that be what forced
the others to end their lives? The endless black veil over their eyes drove
them to madness? Or perhaps they just grew weary of our existence, grew tired
of their infinite world, the timeless and frozen. I am not there yet, the nights
all merge together into one continuous consciousness – and yet I do not grow agitated
by the stretch ahead of me. My life is broken up by intervals…yes I barely
sleep so it does seem my life is incessant but I stretch my mind and body as
far as I can make it to break the patterns. I grow desperate for more and more risk
and turbulence – the more so as I have grown older, as I have become a man. For
some reason, I feel my existence will not remain the same; I feel it will
fester and endure yet it will decline and mutate. I will not always stay the
same as I am now…I do not know why I feel this…all I know is that if my life
does detain changes then I will force them to surface.
As I stare out from where I hide, I feel sickened by the extent of
everything my decisions caused. I made the worst kind of choices, I settled on
the most awful compromises, I pledged to myself the most absurd vows – and for
what? I do not even know why I still live the way I do, I do not understand
anything I do. I am disturbed by the world around me. Its rash fury frightens
me, its hateful life makes me loathe its entirety, the essence of its
fragmented beauty makes me want to destroy every last piece of it. And through
it all I hold onto my rules – my guidelines and laws. I will force myself to
obey, I will make myself comply – it has worked so far. And I need this; I need
it so I can stay in control.
I lean back in from the bay window. I rest my head against the wall
surrounding the set-in window seat, the paint is peeling off the wood and the
place exhales dust and decay. The stench is comforting to me, it is organic and
shows the balance of a life cycle – this place is dying but rot grows from it, nature
feeds off the weak. I am not utterly weak yet, just in a peculiar status.
My heart hammers rapidly against
my ribs; my body wants sustenance but I am disinclined to satisfy. I cannot
summon the enthusiasm to even move from my post, I wish to just rest here and
gaze out at the night, drinking in the sights and experiencing every sensory
element that reaches me, as I sit perfectly still in my refuge. I hear sounds
fluttering around, probably just some tiny animal trapped within one of the
rooms within the building – even this abandoned place is no sanctuary for
rodents, there is nothing here, decayed beyond sustentation. It is most likely
a bird that flew in from the broken windows – none of the window panes have any
glass sheets remaining, the most there is shattered leftovers and jagged teeth
set into the softening wood. Although the air around me is close to freezing,
still I feel nothing.
Beads of sweat leak out from my hairline. I feel this heat, warmth iking from within my core once again, energy draining away. I need nutrients,
my nerves quiver with stored up adrenalin for a hunt, yet I still want to
ignore this. Maybe I will try and ignore it for as long as I can…maybe that will
end badly? My mouth grows incredibly
dry, so dry in fact that it feels as if I have been parched for many days. Need
grips hold of me quickly; I feel my head swimming and my vision ripples. So many
times when these feelings overwhelm me I have thought it would be easier to
just crumble to the floor and let myself slowly fade away, each droplet of heat
and energy trickle away, shrinking from existence, starved. But the agony would
be ultimate – so unbearable that I would tear the skin from my bones to save
myself from the pain. It would not be a sweet descent, more so an excruciating
pestilence that decomposes me until I lose sight of everything and finally, and
gratefully, perish. I have never seen it happen, but I have seen the remnants. Body
twisted in agony, contorted bones – some bent beyond recognition – coated in a
thin caul-like substance which is the remains of the putrified flesh, void of
all quintessence; The hideous reality.
All that aside I also doubt I would ever get to that stage unless I was
encaged and forced to literally devour myself. Although I pride myself on
having a strong mentality, having survived and endured many things, I do not
think I would be able to contain myself from feeding. I have noticed that the
longer I hold myself back the worse I become. No longer a creature indulging on
blood, helping myself when the time arises; I become ravenous – manic, craving
violence, overthrown by an impulsive need – a fraught being driven by an insane
compulsion, desperate to fulfil my oh so treasured addiction. And the worst
part is…I love it. I relish this state far greater than the ordinary feeding,
the animalistic obsession, the wild and untameable desires – I cannot control
it at all, therefore I cannot blame myself.
I have resisted feeding for so long that my body seems used to it – yet
never fully prepared for the shocking stabs that attack my system and force me
to act. I began doing this because I wanted to be the master of my addiction; I
began to avoid my family – my kind – because of their pathetic dependency,
their overindulgent feeding and excessive killing for pleasure made me withdraw
from them. Their narcissism was too much for me to bear, I felt they reduced
what we are to worthlessness, and overcompensation is not needed when you
possess such dominance. And because of my constant internal battles and
questions, I found the need to control myself – to try and reduce the killing
number. I killed only what I needed to survive, when I was young I did not need
a lot to exist but as I grew my need grew also. I am rejected because of my self-control
yet they do not know…they do not know how much I worship the arising need now,
how much it fills me a glorified climax, of which is beyond their simple
desire. To satisfy a raging hunger at the point of sheer mania is absolute ecstasy.
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