People tell me I’ve changed this year. People who’ve only met me this year refer to me as loud, outspoken, funny. I’m a little proud of this. People used to think of me as shy, quiet, sheepish. Some people dislike the change, I think they just dislike that they can’t push me around anymore. I think they just dislike that I’ve finally found my voice…and it’s a loud one.

The Sparrow, The Sparrow-hawk and The Hawk

The sparrow was terrified of everything really, struggling to exist in a world that was too vast and ever changing for it. But the sparrow never gave up, no matter how hard things got, he endured and continued to fly. Even when the swell of the air tried to force him to the ground he kept going, he did not submit. But the sparrow was too trusting and in the end he was consumed whole. His final act of defiance was to struggle in the throats of those that had hunted him and bring them to their knees with tears in their eyes. One final act to show they had not taken from him all that he was.

The sparrow-hawk was smarter and more cunning. He did not fear, but he was no fool either. His stronger wings allowed him to sail through this world with more ease than the little sparrow. He hunted too, but not like those who had hunted the sparrow with such glee. He was however, not indestructible and at times he too was pushed to his limits. He did not submit, and unlike the sparrow that was quick to flee, he would turn and face his oppressor with talons outstretched. In the end, the fight consumed him and he lost who he was.

The hawk doesn’t exist yet. Perhaps he never will. A true predator, cruel, strong, handsome and intelligent. He will be a terror to behold. He will be everything the sparrow was not. 

Does anyone remember Skarmory?

To completely counteract the other night, last night was actually lovely. Granted I didn’t go out to a club, I just went to a friend’s house. But I suppose if I can still go to a friend’s house and have fun then things aren’t all bad here. I guess even if it seems like you’re on your own, there is always someone you can turn to for help and support. So while I may not like the place I call home, with the help of my friends I can tolerate it and learn from it’s lessons.

This is going to sound really stupid, but does everyone remember the pokemon Skarmory? Well it used to be my favorite so I knew quite a bit about it. In the pokemon world a Skarmory would make it’s nest in a thick bed of thorns. Not an ideal place to live. When it would then have children, the younger Skarmory would spend their lives getting cuts and nicks and bruises. But the parents would not move them away. Do you know why? It was because after years and years of this life of injuries, their skin would harden and become an armor like metal. The very thing that once hurt them had given them a protection that left them almost invulnerable.

So that’s the metaphor I’m going with now. What once hurt, I can learn from it. But more than that, I can grow because of it.

My Cousins 21st

I have just returned from my cousins 21st birthday party. It was a brilliant night, I haven’t seen some of my cousins in years. But I was a bit apprehensive before going. Two of my cousins going knew that I was gay, one of them is gay himself. My parents were going to be there too. While I do trust my cousins, alcohol tends to loosen tongues.

But the night was a good one. I was well aware that both of these cousins wanted to take me aside and discuss the subject. But I danced around it as best I could. Both of them however did say how they loved me so much, and that I was their favorite cousin (there are fifty of us).

My gay cousin is unique. He moved to Scotland when I was 8, before he came out as gay so I haven’t seen him in years. It was strange to meet him again, he wasn’t really what I expected. He is very proud of himself and who he is, so I admire him for that. But he just seems a bit strange. He’s family so I love him, but he wasn’t what I had anticipated. He was loud and pretty vulgar. Maybe I just overhyped him in my head. Maybe it was just the alcohol and he isn’t actually like that. Who knows? He is an alcoholic though, I guess, I just expected more from my gay elder.

Oh people

Why do you all expect so much of me, I can’t be a paragon to you all. I can’t even be a paragon to one of you.

You expect me to love as you move from person to person.

Or love as you watch from afar.

You subject me to pressure.

You force me to decide a future.

You hold me at arms length with words sharp as steel.

You expect me to hear your problems forever.

You expect me to wait like a child for your responses.

You expect me to smile through it all.

You expect me to keep my problems to myself.

Then the divine gives me a blade and all else melts away. Each is individual but to each I beg, please help me. Be patient, care for me. My years are limited, let me enjoy them.

The Battle

The warrior surveyed the carnage around him. A ruin of a battlefield. Blood spattered grasses, bodies of the fallen, friend and foe alike. A building had once stood here. That building too had once stood for something. But the warrior couldn’t see its walls now. All he could see was a flaming battleground beneath a sky of billowing smoke. His enemies in the distance, like cats licking their wounds.

He hadn’t always been a warrior. Once he was something else, but that memory was… gone, faded in the shadows. Now all he knows is a sword and the cowl he wears. A stone mask of fury and hate. Unrelenting, or so he thought. Recent battles have become more vicious, the cuts strike deeper, the stone of fury is being eroded. His enemies can see his eyes. They know his soul, they see his fear and weakness. It gives them new strength. For in their eyes he must be punished. 

The warrior once commanded a legion of his own. Both friends and allies. But some moved on to pastors new, they decided it was their time to move on, to leave the battlefield behind as all must eventually. But then tragedy struck, the warrior felt a blade slip into his own back. A betrayal! Moral quickly slipped, and those that had once been close allies followed the vile traitor and became the enemy.

Why is the warrior being punished? He does not know. Perhaps a sin, karma or a past mistake on his part?

Each day the battle grows fiercer. The warrior and those that remain by his side fight as they always have, but they are losing, they know it. No matter how many his blade culls, they do not stop in their march. There numbers continue to swell, their voices a screaming torment. Every day another of his allies falls or defects. The warrior would have fallen long ago if not for the intervention of angels. But there is only so much they can do. They contact him through screens, heal him of his wounds and shield him from trauma. But they live too far away, their hands are tied, their is only so much they can do.

So now as always the warrior readies his sword, as do his few remaining allies. He wants to give up. He wants them to break him. But angels whisper in his thoughts and he refuses to. This battle began long before his time and it will remain long after he has passed. But the warrior is strengthened by the angels. He will not submit. He will see it through for the remaining ninety nine nights.

Rumors on the wind suggest peace may be coming. The warrior is wary of such trickery. But if peace is possible, it must be obtained.