Don't call my Name, I just want a Cigarette

The battle scars bear witness to the wars waged on emotional fronts. Love is dead under the fires of Practicality and the necessity of War. My heart is the battlescape with criss-crossed battle hardened scars laid over scars, drenched in the futility of tears that barely wet the dry leathery organ, I have no need for love anymore. The only thing I want for Christmas is to heal my physical self. Let the emotional scars remain, for this is my Glory.

The branded words on my heart. Unspoken, yet clearly there.

The Impending Lull

It is going to be Christmas all too soon. The word is ready as I am about to launch a full-scale offensive on the physical front, to clear up my face and my body. My vision awaits. The blog is not at its deathbed, it appears, as I jumpstart the dying chortles of the beaten self. The mind has been battered but the awakening bides its time. All in good time. All in good time.

Let's not be too hasty in our judgment. I am after all, Xavier Harker.

The Beginning of the End

I think it's about time I close this blog. Life is too full of sorrow already for me to add on to it. It's time to lay down the arms, lay down the sorrow, lay down the wears and burdens and come to peace with Father. It's almost time to go back to Him, who has been patiently waiting for me to return ever since I knew Him, and left Him in the middle of that night, sixteen years ago.

I don't wish to come back here again. I have been closer to the edge than never before. I have loved, have hurt, have been hurt, have cried, have laughed, have been angry, been jealous, been excited, and have experienced the full spectrum of emotions that a human should have. This year has been this eventful.

But I will never forget, I will never regret the times of extreme sorrow, extreme love that I have so keenly felt, the hurt, the passion that coursed through me, and that I have expressed here, for it makes me what I am. I am glad. The Night is not going to be gloomy any more, as day breaks for a better tomorrow.

Xavier Harker means 'listen for the home'. It will be time to go back soon. Very soon.

The Game

Stripped of the useless emotions, I am who I was, but for how long? I wonder. I yearn for that sickly sweet feeling of love, but am full aware of the destruction it brings. It is wonderful while the feeling lasted. Let the heartbeat die.

Too Late to Apologize

I guess what must go, must go. Only the memories will remain; at least I have lived once before.

Nihilism

I need to stop all feelings; hate the reckless run of emotions, hate the harshness of reality, hate myself, no meaning, no direction, no life.

The Frozen Wasteland

This is the time when I constantly remind myself not to be slaved under the chainings of love, that my identify matters as much as anything else. Because often not, I have been copying so many things that I am but a mere doppelganger to everything, especially the other. I need to establish my voice, subsumed for so long under everything 'normal', because I am anything but.

I need my cloak around me, yet my cloak must be my feature, my voice. I am not the other. I will not be subjected to the tyrannies of 'normalcy', to rules, to expectations, and of utmost, I am who I am, despite not knowing who I am actually. I need to be comfortable in my own skin.

My quaser remains, my every move forward is to make it happen. Damnation to those who stands in my way. The Mage shall control his destiny, not the other way. For too long have I been subjected to the damning rituals of my own contrivance, and it shall no longer be so. I am the Mage. Everything must be controlled. I shall not be held sway to the irrationalities of emotions. The Frozen Wasteland must reign in its place.