24th of Ches
I am a violent coalescence of emotions these days, a fragile wooden boat set sail on a savage sea of alternating joyful serenity and uncontrollable chaos. My mind is all but unsure on how to cope with all of the ups and downs of these days gone past, so wildly have I swung lately between crushing heartbreak and perfect joy.
A beloved friend is dead, and then they are—by some marvel of a power that I cannot fathom as my own—once again amongst the living.
A brother and a sister are faced with certain death, and then delivered into salvation at the very last moment—but at what cost, and to the benefit of whom?
A father, an aunt, an assemblage of confidantes all courageous and dear, snatched from the claws of their doom, only to be faced with the inexplicable and mystifying loss of one of their very saviors in the effort.
A mother, a woman of whom my memories have been altered, known to be alive this whole time by one so close to myself, revealed stolen away by my one and only true enemy.
Being my one and only true enemy.
How can one cope with such rapidly interchanging bouts jubilation and torment so synchronously? Emotions, both good and bad, feel as if they have chucked me overboard and are ever driving me beneath the surface, drowning me in what I fear is an ocean of numbness.
I urge to take a gasp, to end my fight to breathe, to let the waters fill my lungs and deliver me into the comforting arms of relief and nothingness. But it is there in which the danger lies, more than anything else.
Perhaps more than any one terrible catastrophe, I find myself panic-stricken at the thought of losing the heart that makes me me. If I am to lose my empathy, my feeling, my love, the receptivity of my soul to this wonderful, terrible, ever-spinning world around me, am I truly myself anymore? If I cannot bring myself to fight, what more will occur around me—and will my troubles disappear, or only be passed on to the ones I claim to have loved most?
What happens to my friends, to my family, to my mother, to Anzo, to Briar—to Rowan, who may still be out there somewhere, waiting for someone to care enough to risk their lives fighting to bring her back?
I have been blessed with this wondrous power that should not possibly be wielded by such a mortal being as myself. It seems a violation of the laws of the earth that I possess it, and yet just as grievous a violation if I am not to utilize it to bring peace to those around me; even if my curse is that in doing so I never know peace myself.
Perhaps I must learn to come to terms with that my life is meant to be a restless one, blessed not by what I can do for myself, but by the blessings I have the capacity to bring to others.
Perhaps, maybe, as impossible as it seems in times like these to keep my head above water, it may
be my destiny