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Authors Note: This was written when I was involved with my psychotic ex who ran a cult. I was into a lot of "alternative religions" religions at the time, but thanks to them, and their pushing me away from what I thought was the only "right thing" (that stupid cult) I managed to break free, find peace, and learn more about who I was and how to be happy. So know I've grown a lot since I wrote this, but I still hold true to the message--to those who have hurt me, thank you. I wish all the happiness for you that I wish for myself
Pains of a thousand lifetimes fill up the course of a short seventeen years, robbing barren a soul of innocence it once held so dear. Recently, I thought I had found something that completed me, made me whole. But I realized in this decaying circle of a group I dubbed myself part of, I really was doing nothing more than striving to be what I wasn't.
Perhaps I should elaborate. Years ago, I had a group of friends I held dear, and looked to as teachers due to their age and knowledge in something I loved--magick. Be it the studying of shakra's, energy manipulation, meditation, or willing a storm to form. After I lost contact with all but a few--and our current status isn't exactly the most positive you can have--I was left wandering, striving. I found it in studying about who I was, and what I was. Things I could do, powers I could pull. The feeling of energy coursing down your fingers and igniting in the dark cast of a full moon better than any pleasure granted by earthly beings or even chocolate. Yet still I was lost. Throwing myself to religion, subjecting myself to years of torture and pain as who I was threatened to explode out of me.
Then I met Misty. For years we were best friends, yet near the end it decayed. She found a group she thought she fit in with, yet sadly enough, it was not so. I, who had found something of my own that was beyond remarkable, unable to be fathomed by most peoples mind, horded this closely to me, trying to hide it from her, not wanting to share.
Yet when I met this group she was with, I realized there were others who had discovered what I had, and naturally (for bird of a feather really do flock together) I began to levitate towards them. There I met my current wife--whom I can never understand but love it that way. Together, we expanded, but I soon realized our secrets were different. And forgive me for not elaborating on this secret. Let's say its a dirty little closet monster that likes to rear it's lucious head at only a precious, or cursed, few.
Yet still I clung to her, for the only I had knew that were like me had warned me how little of us there were. So I held on like there was no tomorrow. Fell in love with her, with her version of this closet monster, and forgot who I was. Forgot the lust of moonlit night that draws you out to draw circles in the sand and worship that sacred goddess/angel of the moon gazing down. Forgot the joys and tears you get when you feel the warmth and light when a good prayer goes right and you manage to help that one persons life. Forgot what it was like to be me.
Recently though, events have turned for the worst. This group I have been involved with is a traitorous little bunch, and have even caused many of my friends to go mad with it all. From the loving people I remember to vindictive little brutes concerned only with what they want and what they want alone.
(Please, Gods on High, Do Not Forget Them!)
This has led to much pain. Sensing I was different from them, despite my attempts to train and help where my girlfriend could not, they began the worst of all sins to do amongst one another. Spread rumors and lies. Intentionally hurt myself and those who stood close to me. Began to betray, almost leading one boy to suicide. Saying all the while, it was my fault. Showing how many people would turn and betray.
Because of me.
Irony, is it not? That they blame me when they're the ones hurting everyone, knowing they're doing it. I love people sometimes. Especially from this group. They amuse me so.
But the worst is when the personal attacks began a mere few days ago. The slight comments, the lies, everything. And having my girlfriend explain in the most uninterested of tones that I was being accused of cheating on her, trying to get others to betray, etc. etc. When those who were launching these attacks were trying to get others to betray.
Am I the only one yet who's finding something wrong with this?
She told me she believed me. But that I was to pretend that she didn't, for presentations sake, until the time came. Therefor affectivly cutting me off from my "friends" and the life I had made amongst them (rather unregrettably, I now realize).
With the anger now subsiding, and the rage leaking from red to pink, slowly merging to clear, I now I see what has happened.
And to those who have hurt me, I thank you.
You see...without you, I wouldn't have desired to go back to that old herbal and psychic shop in Green Valley. I wouldn't have desired to find a good Tarot deck, nor pick up my old books. I would have remained lost, forgotten who I was and what I was meant to do.
Without the pain you have caused me, I would not have seen you for you, nor me for me.
So for what you have done, and the pain you have caused...
Thank you.
There's an incredibly frightening book where the phrase "May the gods never forget me!" is used. I really don't want to state what it is, because it is a story delving deep into the Black Arts, and if you believe or put any credence into demons or magick, then I hope you can appreciate just how utterly overwhelmingly dangerous that is. I used that phrase because it's more mocking towards their sense of "we are better than the gods" and "we are more powerful than God himself." Kind of a prayer that God does not forget them, and does not forsake them, but also takes a look and sees and says "hey...wait..."
I hope that made sense O.O
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