unravellingdescent

[unravellingdescent]

Dream Guardian

Today, I was a butterfly. I’d never been a butterfly before, nor would I know if I were ever going to be a butterfly again. Despite that though, flying felt familiar; comfortable. I recognised the area, though I can’t recall where I’d seen it before. I remember fluttering through certain roads that looked hauntingly familiar, but I can’t remember where from. I wouldn’t say I had no control over where I’d go, but rather, it just… felt right.

Another weird dream huh. This time it was in the presence of a butterfly, wings of midnight blue, as I watched it travel across my neighbourhood under the full moon. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t dreamt of butterflies before; but unlike the other ones, this butterfly had a presence to it.

My car broke down today on my way to work, so I had to take the night bus home. This normally wouldn’t be an issue, except I had to stay late for work AND the fact that the main bus I’d take no longer functioned after midnight. At least I had the day off tomorrow to solve this stupid car issue. Today’s been a rough day in general, and it’s driving me crazy that the fucking butterfly dream is stuck in my head. Just watching it flutter, again and again, from beginning to end. An intrusive thought is one thing but this one would JUST NOT leave.

As I walk from the bus stop towards my apartment, I notice the surroundings is familiar, too familiar. I’ve lived in this area for about two years now, and it’s not like I haven’t walked here before, but this felt different. Normally, I’d take the main roads, staying away from any dark alleys and unlit areas – for safety reasons of course, but I recall the butterfly, floating through this exact area. It didn’t take the normal routes I would take, instead turning into the daunting alleys and taking the backroads I normally wouldn’t.

“Teenage boy’s body found in abandoned car.”

Poor kid I thought to myself, watching the morning news in my new pyjamas that I JUST spilled coffee on. As I kept listening though, my hands began to freeze, sending chills down my entire body and staining the rest of my pjs.

“…found near the roundabout of Smith’s Avenue… …autopsy reports show the victim was murdered around 12:20am...”

Smith’s Avenue? The closest main road I’d drive to work? The same one I’d normally take coming home from the bus stop? The same path I would’ve taken last night had I not spontaneously followed a different route all because of a dream. Surely it was luck. Or just déjà vu. There’s no way that body could’ve been mine had I gone the normal way, right?

Today I was a kitten, awoken by the early morning cold. My mother and siblings still asleep, tugging trying to feed themselves on her milk. I couldn’t fall back to sleep though, so I wandered the plains, running through the thick fog of winter dusk. I soon found myself near a small townhouse, not of humans, but other cats. They welcome me with warm purrs and feeding me fresh milk and fish, disappearing once the sun was in the sky.

My alarm really woke me up this early. 4:30 am? A whole hour earlier than my usual routine – maybe I was half asleep while setting it up but I don’t think I can go back to bed. And these birds outside are chirping so damn loud there’s no way I’m getting another ounce of sleep. Maybe I should just head to work, at least that way I’ll get to catch up on the work that’s been piling on me since the day my car broke down. Leaving at 5:30 in the morning feels strange, I can barely see anything in this mist but on the bright side, the roads are somewhat empty. Guess I’ll be the first one at work today, reminds me of the times I used to come in early just to impress and suck up the management.

It's almost 7am and most of my colleagues should be here by now but so far, there’s only four people here, and one of them had to be my boss that’s been on my ass for the past week about some new project which wasn’t even assigned to our department. I see the HR lady talking to him, …and now he's walking towards my office. Hopefully it’s not about this damn project again, maybe I should put some headphones in and pretend like I’m working so he’ll leave me alo- guess not.

“There’s been a massive multi-lane accident on King’s Road. Some of our colleagues have been affected by this and will not be able to come in due to traffic blockage. You may take the day off if...”

Turns out there was a drunk driver going over 70 mph that ran a red light into an oil truck around half past 6 in the morning. Over 14 casualties and counting according to Google’s latest results. Not sure what sane human drinks and drives that early in the morning, but what bothered me most was that this was my usual time commuting to work. There was a significantly high chance of that number being 15 had I woken up like I usually do. I’m suddenly reminded of the butterfly from 4 weeks ago, and the kitten last night. They both had the same eery presence to them that I still can’t quite put my finger on, but apart from that, there was no real correlation, right? I mean, sure the kitten was awoken early like I was, but nothing else stands out.

As I drove home, the dream kept replaying in my head, I’d watch this kitten wake up, wander off in the fog, and visit a townhouse of cats, eat, drink, disappear and repeat. It came to my realisation that the kitten was rewarded for waking up early and wandering off, before all its siblings, and getting to eat and drink free meals. Was I somehow rewarded, or rather, somehow avoided a fatal accident by being awake early and wandering off, or heading, to work?

A guardian angel looking out for me? It’s been appearing much more often, increasing in frequency over the last year or so, where certain animals, objects, even inconspicuous things like the wind or sunlight, had a weird presence to them. One time it was a bird that stared at my usual coffee shop for ages, and then flew away – most likely telling me to not get coffee that following day. It took me 2 hours in the bathroom to understand that maybe I shouldn’t have drunk coffee that day. Another time it was in the form of the rain, heavy pouring rain. This time I listened, and had brought multiple umbrellas and raincoats with me to work. Did I mention I work in the fields now? Well, I work in the fields now, rarely in the office but occasionally I do have to go in to finish off some paperwork.

In the past 6 months or so, the presence has taken a form that it hasn’t before, a human. A woman, more beautiful than any I’d seen, deep hazel eyes and a smile that lit up her face. She would talk to me. Talk with me. At first, she only pointed, her hands glowing in certain directions, sometimes in the sky. Sometimes she’d stand, or float, in empty space, pointing to 4D diagrams, pictures, usually warning me of danger, or just things I should consider or approach in my day to day life. It’s not like I’m uncapable of doing my work or meeting new friends, but listening to her has helped improved my social circle and work life.

Eventually she spoke. We’d talk about each other, well, me mainly. It was weird talking to someone in my dream and vividly remembering every detail, but it was a good weird, one that made me comfortable and felt therapeutic. I’d listen to her speak in her soft, tender voice, about who she was, though she didn’t know much either. She said she wasn’t a guardian angel but a dream guardian. A presence that only speaks to you in your dreams – she knew that much at least. She told me she didn’t know why she was here, but that she felt like there was something important to do regarding me. Something that drove her very existence to me.

At first I was curious, intrigued as to what mystic force would drive her to me. But eventually, I stopped losing interest as to why she was here, and just appreciated and enjoyed her company. It wasn’t physical, but it felt real. I asked her why she didn’t appear as a human from the very beginning, but I soon found out that wasn’t in her control. We came to the assumption that maybe I had to listen to her warnings more and trust its presence more for that to happen. I asked her why she felt so important to me, and yet so distant; she didn’t know. I asked her if she’d stay with me for the rest of my life, if she’d continue to appear in my dreams, but again, she didn’t know. Maybe once the “important” thing was completed, she’d disappear for good.

I didn’t want her to disappear, but I didn’t know what to do either. So, I let it be. She’d visit me almost every night, and the mornings after not getting a visit from her, I found myself trying to go back to sleep for a chance to talk to her again. I never could though. It’s not like I could force myself to dream of her either. And when I did dream of her, it felt lucid, yet I was unable to control my surroundings or my own body to the extent I wanted it to. I wanted to hug her, or even just hold her hand and say thank you. Thank you for saving me countless of times, no matter how big or small it was. It’s not like I didn’t thank her every time I saw her, but it never felt sincere. I don’t think it could’ve felt sincere unless I’d hold her hands in mine and wept and cried telling her how much I appreciated her looking out for me.

It’s been an entire year since I’ve met her. And yes, I’ve managed to hold her hand and tell her all the things I wanted to say, and more. It felt like I was holding everything and nothing at the same time. It was so full and so heavy, yet so empty. The cosmic universe in the palm of my hands and the absence of everything simultaneously. She said she could feel nothing, and she’s felt nothing throughout all the times I’ve held her. I didn’t know if that was an insult at first, but she reassured me that dream guardians cannot feel anything, and that she understood and empathised with everything I said.

It's been three years since I’ve met her. She hasn’t shown up since then. I’ve dreamt of her and thought of her every day, but there was never that presence to her like the past. It wasn’t her. It was something I conjured up from my own thoughts and tried to manifest in my dream. The one I’ve been dreaming of isn’t my dream guardian. I missed her. Did she finally complete the important task she was assigned to? Did God, or whatever heavenly divinity that brought her to me, decide to finally take her back? If she was here to protect me and keep me happy, why have I felt so miserable? Why is she always on my mind? Her soft voice, her smile that’d light up her entire face, her hand that filled me with everything and nothing, her comfort and her worry. I missed everything.

I haven’t had proper sleep in weeks, I’m scared I’ll never see her again. I don’t want to conjure up a fake her from my obsessive thoughts and replace her. I’m scared I’ll no longer dream of her, and she’ll be gone forever, forgotten from my mind. I’m scared I’ll come to the point where I thought everything was just a hallucination or just a normal dream. That she was never real. No, I’m going to try to see her again soon. Tomorrow I’ll drive to the nearest pharmacy and buy the strongest sleeping pills in hopes that they can help me meet her again.

She appeared that night, but she was different. Her voice was weak and straining. Her face no longer carrying her smile that filled up my heart. And her eyes, lifeless. For the first time, she reached out her hand to hold mine. But it didn’t feel like everything and nothing, it felt… real. It felt human. She begged me not to go tomorrow and take those pills, she begged me to forget about her and live the better life she helped me achieve. She said to not let her efforts go to waste, and that she would watch over me from above. She said she loved me. She loved me. She loved me. Again and again. I didn’t know it until that moment either, but I loved her too. I fell in love with my dream guardian, and I didn’t want to ever let her go.

I awoke this morning, crying, beating myself up for waking up so early. If I slept a little longer, I could be with her for a little longer. How could my own body be so against my own wishes? Falling in love with the woman of my dreams, literally. But I loved her more than any other person I’ve ever loved and felt more loved in that one dream than I ever felt before. I wanted to see her again, and I’m going to.

9pm. There’s two bottles of sleeping pills in front of me. I’m going to meet her tonight again, and hopefully, I can stay with her for the rest of my life. Even if I have to take multiple bottles every night. I’m going to see her.

As I swallow one pill after another, I slowly find myself getting sleepier and sleepier, but I need more. I need as much time I can to be with her. Fighting to stay awake, I open the second bottle and start taking a handful of them at once. I’m sleepy, I’m falling asleep. Please wait for me.

It's been so long since I’ve been here, I’ve lost count. Maybe a few hours, maybe a few millennia, maybe since the beginning of time. What was I doing here? What am I doing here? How did I get here? Who am I? Who was I before I got here? I want to know who, or what I am. It’s so dark, I’ve been wandering for so long, yet I don’t feel like I’ve moved at all. I don’t want to be here anymore. I want to go back to a time before I was here, before I forgot who I was.

Am I alive? Was I once alive? Is this the graveyard of the dead? I don't feel alive, nor do I feel dead. Is this where the forgotton are left behind? I see glimpses of a life, somewhere in the distant past, somewhere in another universe. Why was I so eager to rest? So eager to throw away my life? What for? To sleep? To meet something, or someone? Is this the realm for the souls that gave up on living? If it is, I don't want to be here. I don't want to give up on my life. I want to go back. I want to live a longer life, as long as I can. I'm sleepy. I close my eyes one last time.

...And some day, open them again. I don’t feel what I’ve felt before in the darkness, it’s not dark at all. I feel nothing and yet, everything at the same time. I can see yet I sense I’m also being watched. I don’t know where I am, but these roads feel hauntingly familiar. I don’t know where I’m going, but wherever I go, it just feels right. I’m looking around, it’s a full moon and I’m floating on wings, midnight blue, a butterfly.

[unravellingdescent]

moments

there are moments in life where i lay in bed thinking what i could have done differently to prevent something so apparent. moments i wish i could revisit and alter, in hopes that the outcome would be different from what it is now. small moments like not committing to my first guess during an exam that eventually turned out to be correct - and big moments like bailing on friends after planning an event that would become everlasting memories.

there are moments in life where i lay in bed thinking what i would have lost had i not taken the route that i did. moments i appreciate the decisions i made that led to cherished memories and happiness. small moments like trying octopus for the first time, being engrossed yet curious at the beloved delicacy - and big moments like deciding to go to a certain school and creating lifelong friends.

there are moments in life where i lay in bed thinking if all the good things that led to a painful memory was worth it. moments i ponder whether who i am now and what im feeling was worth all the happiness i felt. small moments like riding a bike with a friend and ending up with them going to the hospital - and big moments like falling in love for the first time and experiencing a first heartbreak.

i guess im thinking about these moments as i lay in bed because i feel like another moment has passed. a moment i dont want to ever forget about. a moment that saved me multiple times from taking a dozen sleeping pills hoping i never wake up. a moment that acted as a guidance - to look forward to something in life and to get my ass up and do something about it. a moment that helped me open up and look within myself. its a moment that has caused hurt yet is also hurting. im not sure what my perspective on this moment will be a year from now, or even a decade, but i know its not a moment i’ll look back and ever wonder if it was worth it - because it is, and always will be.

#shitting on caskets

[unravellingdescent]

going back to school after a holiday growing up was always a weird time for me. my classmates would share stories of travel, visiting their grandparents, cute little family events. the classroom would always be full of laughter and cheer, other children joining in the conversation on how they did something similar. i remember the air thinning out and the laughter and smiles dissipating when it was my turn to share.

its always been like this for as long as i can remember. the concept of parental care and love has always been just that, a concept. its not like i was a bad child growing up; i'd rarely go out - always coming home early on the rare instances, was always top of the class in almost all my classes, never asked for anything financially. i wasnt perfect, i'm still not, but i was never undeserving of affection.

i grew up in what felt like a house of strangers. each passing year i felt more distant, more detached emotionally and physically. each passing year the screaming got louder, lingering in my head more frequently. each passing year i found myself crying alone in the middle of the night wondering if id ever be told that i made them proud: or if theyd even just acknowledge me as their son. not once in my twenty-one years of living have i heard the words i love you or im proud of you uttered from their lips.

and honestly at this point i no longer crave it. i no longer seek it nor do i actively aim for it. i wouldnt say ive learnt nothing from them, but rather so much. ive learned on what kind of person i want to become. ive learned on the ways i want to raise my children, on how to love them, spoil them, teach them. ive learned to celebrate their achievements and forgive their mistakes, to tell them theyre loved and that id be proud of them no matter what they do in life.

i eagerly wait for the day i no longer have to hold my tongue, the day i no longer have to hide my tears and regress my emotions. i eagerly wait for the day i can walk out the door and never look back. i cannot wait for the day i can finally walk into the welcoming arms that have been waiting for me. the warm hands that hold mine, telling me i am loved and appreciated, and that id never forget it. i cant wait to show them what theyve lost, and show them just how much i never needed them.

[unravellingdescent]

I sat on my bed tonight and stared at the empty bottle and the sleeping pills I had laid out. If one pill made me fall asleep for a night, would two make me fall asleep for two? Would three for three? If I took a handful of pills then, would I have slept until the pain was gone? Would I have woken up to love and affection? Serenity and peace? Or would I have not woken up at all? Sleeping until I slowly lost consciousness - my dreams becoming the last echoes of my mind.

Whichever it was, I didn't mind gambling it all. If I awoke to a warm feeling of love and relief, I'd finally have what I'd been missing. And if I never woke up at all, I'd finally be free of the struggles haunting me.

I sat on my bed tonight, with a time capsule of memories in front of me. I'd recognised the little boy in the photo, his smile filled with innocence and joy as he was surrounded with his friends all celebrating his birthday. I sat wondering what happened to him throughout the years for him to become the broken and damaged man I'd see in the mirror every morning. What happened to that little boy that his birthdays would go from a day of happiness and thrill to a day filled with loneliness and a night filled with tears?

When did I become so eager to gamble away my existence? They say things don't end via a single blow, but rather by a thousand cuts. I'm tired of stitching and patching it up, only to be cut open again leaving a deeper wound. I'm tired of biting my tongue so I don't speak out and cause more trouble for my mind. I'm tired of bottling these thoughts up and imploding, asking myself whether I should gamble on sleeping pills.

I'm tired of being tired. I want to rest. I want to know I'll be okay. I want to be that innocent little boy again.

#head empty only you

[unravellingdescent]

probably my favourite poem i’ve ever read

i am reminded by a professor - once a person leaves, you will never love like that again.

how wonderful. i will love in a new way each time, then, for new reasons. i will find out that my heart never had a limit on joy. i will know new things.

he says - we can never find our way back to loving the same way twice.

i am not the same person from before, though, am i? why would i want to take a tour of my life through the same eyes? why would i want to hold the same figure-eight? why would i come back to what has already been shoved through my throat? why wouldn't i want to walk in a new garden, with new stones?

it is also never the same sunset twice. the same thunderstorm. the same birdsong. life, in little chaos, holds no ghosts. i will love again, and thank god, it will be different. i move on, and the world says - you will meet someone else, who knows a different way to listen. and when i put my ears against the music again, it will feel like i am understanding a new set of secrets.

how wonderful. my love does not run out. it is remade and recolored and unstained in doubt. gold hair, coffee, the shape of her mouth.

[unravellingdescent]

Insomnia

I lay awake into the night, as the sunlight slowly begins to seep through my windowpane. The morning birds chirp as they keep me company, but they too begin to fade. I find myself alone again, with nothing but the sound of my own breath and the whispering of the distorted white noise. They tell me to take my time, that patience is key, so I wait. They tell me time would heal all my wounds, so I wait. They tell me I’ll be okay again one day, so I wait. I wait to forget the memories you left behind. I wait to forget the restless nights I cried away. I wait to remember and remind myself of who I once was before I met you. I wait... Counting each and every second of the nights I spend awake, after all, they say time goes slower if you’re aware of it. I wait, not wanting to face distress and worries of a new day, hoping tomorrow never comes. They told me that time healed all wounds, but who knew the healing would hurt more? As my eyes begin to close, the warmth of the sunlight surrounds my body. It tells me it’s okay to be broken, to cry, to feel incomplete. That the memories would stay and the pain would fade. It tells me it’s okay to change and that I’ll be made anew. It scared me at first, because when I lost you, I lost a part of me too.

wrote this after talking to a close friend one night; decided to upload it here as a memoir. it’s probably a bit all over the place since i didn’t want to edit it too much and lose the rawness and what i felt that night, but i think it still turned out pretty good :))

#aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa hi

[unravellingdescent]

Daughter of the Night

Venture forward, daughter of the night Light their paths and ignite their hearts Let no lost soul tear you apart You walk a lonely road with your head held high A prisoner of the world, a kingdom in the sky

They’ll come for you, bruise and batter you Idolise, sexualise, **** and shatter you They’ll strip you of your clothes Deprive you of your youth They’re lost from the truth

Consumed by the lust of their own pride Let not their sins darken your innocent eyes A vision of purity, like snow in the winter cold As bright as the stars, and all the wonders they hold

Pain and suffering awaits them The reaper approaches, the approach is: no forgiveness They cry with their guilty blood Begging to be saved Enslaved, with their soul engraved To death, and all hope is lost away

They kneel at bay to the scythe at their necks Until the only thing they see is the sight of your back A flurry of blood etches on the concrete The sinners run, the reaper retreats Your body lays idle, blood beside your feet Death looks you in the eye, surprised and satisfied What once an angel, now in defeat

Fear not, child, the night is still young Leave your sword unsheathed and your bow unstrung For the arrows of your heart pierces through the darkest alley And the cries of your soul echoes through the vastest valley

Rise from your defeats Descend from your vanity Thread the fine line between sane and insanity Spread your wings, soar through the skies, And venture forward, daughter of the night.

wrote this poem back in August of 2018, it was the third poem i’d ever written... not sure how it came about or what inspired me to write it but im pretty happy with how it turned out; might as well post it here in case i ever lose the files

#an old poem lmaoo

[unravellingdescent]

Follow the Eye

The silhouette of my chair accompanies me as I lay in the dead of night. The cold breeze blowing through the swaying trees is all the comfort I need in this lonely place. I don't know how long I've been here, nor how long I'll stay - it's been this way for as long as I can remember.

The whispers of the wind guides me, and as long as I follow them, peace soon follows me. Though I am covered in scars and bruises, it is safer for me to be here than anywhere else. I would not say that I am in a quiet place, but that I've become accustomed to the noise that surrounds me. Yet, the sound of my own heartbeat echoes loud within me.

It is a sound I cannot get rid of, nor a feeling I can ignore. Each beat pierces through my skin, leaving a sharp pain that lingers only until the next thump. It doesn't last very long, nor does it hurt enough to stop me, yet it never ceases to leave my mind. I know that if I acknowledge it, suffering and despair will follow soon after.

I know that I'll have to face what the howling wind has been protecting me from. The harsh realities of this cold world, the cruelty of humanity and its obsession with destruction. The consequences of my own actions, and the hurt I've caused to myself.

I follow the wind because it protects me, it shelters me from the rain. It sees my mistakes and allows me to run, it sees my fears and shields me, it sees me for who I'm not. Yes, it is safe here... safe, in the eye of the storm.

#idk writing again ig

[unravellingdescent]

Her Order

CLACK! Another sunken ball followed by laughter, cheers, and frustrations. It was pretty lively for a Thursday night. Well, that’s always been the case ever since she started showing up; and tonight, would be no different. I’ve served many customers of vast characters before, some even from beyond the sea, but no one like her. No, she was different. The mystifying aura that would charm you in, the elegance in every step she took and every move she made, and the beauty beyond any I’d seen. The true personification of if looks could kill.

…

There she was, walking into a room filled with silence and eyes gazing upon her… even the loud music had dissipated almost as if acknowledging her presence.

“What’ll it be tonight ma’am?”

“I’ll have the usual,” she’d reply as she seated herself across from me.

The usual huh? To be honest, I don’t even know what the usual is. Sometimes she enjoyed a sweet taste, the cute bubbly ones, and other times she preferred something more… spicy. Long Island it is, I mean, it didn’t matter what I served her. Whether cocktail, straight vodka, or even off the tap, I don’t seem to recall her ever complaining… Though, I don’t seem to recall her ever actually drinking them either.

She just needed to keep me busy with her, so she’d have someone to talk to. I knew that, and yet I couldn’t resist falling for it every time. It was always about the same thing though, a new guy she’d meet and what she thought of them. Most of the time it was about men who left a bitter taste in her mouth, the toxic kind. The kind that would hurt her and make her sick, ones that she felt poisoned her youth. Sometimes it was about the older ones, something about them ageing like fine wine. Other times it was about those younger than her, how they’d make her feel superior, as if a lioness hunting for a tender fawn.

There was one though, that was different. One that she did not stop talking about for hours, one who she truly loved in a sense. Who’d have known a woman of her status would ever fall for someone? She’d constantly talk about him, and how no one after him could compare to the emotions he made her feel. He was charming, but soft. Gentle and kind. Rich and of high status. Though I don’t think those meant anything to her, after all, he’s no longer with her.

That didn’t stop her from talking though, the sweetness of his lips, the way he’d shiver in excitement as she kissed his neck, the smoky yet calming scent of his cologne. She’d even talk about the explicit thing’s they did that she never usually mentioned about anyone else. The way he tasted down there, the way he’d try to playfully fight back, and the way he’d surrender knowing she was too much for him. I guess that’s one thing you could fault about this woman, if any at all. She did have a tendency to talk a lot… for a cannibal.

“Here’s the usual” I replied as I gestured to the young man, inviting him to sit next to her.

“He’s all yours ma’am.”

#firstwriting week one