Swords and Sea Squirts
I was listening to a recording of myself in a meeting recently. I said very little, but you could hear ENTJ commander (which I am) in every word, even the ones I hoped would be funny. Mine is the spirit of the sword whether I want it that way or not. Still there is nothing more effective for getting things done, and the alone/unloved thing anneals those it doesn't break to an ever finer edge. I was forged in Hell and annealed through many lifetimes in my own heart's blood, and I am exactly what is needed for this time. That I have to accept whether I want to or not. I still have battles ahead of me, battles I can't even talk about, so I can't change now.
It is an unspeakable condition for an empath: even when carefully concealed within the most finely wrought velvet encasement, it guarantees being alone, unloved, and able to feel love intensely but unable to speak of it, having learned from years of experience that your beloved only sees you as a weapon, either to be feared or used - no one loves a weapon.
I was egged on to speak of love the other day, and I held my Silence. I don't know if he senses it or feels the same way about me, but we both have our parts to play in the days to come. I might be wanted only for the work, and with these stakes, opening my mouth before the work is done only to cause us to bounce off of each other and ruin lifetimes of work is just not something I'm going to chance. So I turned it inside and sliced myself to ribbons. I've had serious cardiac arrythmia ever since...some folic acid and a few nights' sleep will help, it isn't new, it's just the first time I've observed a clearly causal relationship there.
Next life, I told a friend (who may have thought I was joking but I wasn't), I'm coming back as a sea squirt. The logic was clear: if I come back as something with no brain, I won't feel, and I won't be participating in a system that has been all too happy to abuse me for its amusement. Only one flaw in that logic: swords aren't supposed to feel, yet I do. So there will be no escape for me in subphylum Tunicata, either....
It is an unspeakable condition for an empath: even when carefully concealed within the most finely wrought velvet encasement, it guarantees being alone, unloved, and able to feel love intensely but unable to speak of it, having learned from years of experience that your beloved only sees you as a weapon, either to be feared or used - no one loves a weapon.
I was egged on to speak of love the other day, and I held my Silence. I don't know if he senses it or feels the same way about me, but we both have our parts to play in the days to come. I might be wanted only for the work, and with these stakes, opening my mouth before the work is done only to cause us to bounce off of each other and ruin lifetimes of work is just not something I'm going to chance. So I turned it inside and sliced myself to ribbons. I've had serious cardiac arrythmia ever since...some folic acid and a few nights' sleep will help, it isn't new, it's just the first time I've observed a clearly causal relationship there.
Next life, I told a friend (who may have thought I was joking but I wasn't), I'm coming back as a sea squirt. The logic was clear: if I come back as something with no brain, I won't feel, and I won't be participating in a system that has been all too happy to abuse me for its amusement. Only one flaw in that logic: swords aren't supposed to feel, yet I do. So there will be no escape for me in subphylum Tunicata, either....