Wolves Have Got Me

In the moment all your fears are made tangible before you? When "the shadow" becomes solid  & reaches for your hand? You were given your promised prize                 Or worse... You spent all those years from there to here  running from                 the Beast of your own making?         Running from                 Hounds of Hell                    Only                You could, see?

 When asked any question, I find I am editing the first 3 to 4 things I want to speak.  There are also times that I have found I am for some reason, in some unknown manner I am what causes others confusion.  At least I am not boring.  Here are some of the answers I have found leaving my lips as of late. {Nope there is no context on these, way more fun that way.} "Why are you here?" ~ Death sent me, left something behind. ~The cat told me you would be here.  ~ I am bored, there's a full moon, & I have had far too many pixie sticks. ~ You went to my funeral; I only wanted you to know what a huge waste of time that was. ~ I have visions, {just accept it, saves time} I either have to save you, or destroy you. Wanna have a caffeinated drink & figure it out? ~ I wanna pet the KITTY!  ~ You owe me a favor. {Why do they always run when I say this?} ~ Took a long drive, ended up here. So, who the fuck are you? ~ I lost my glasses; do you happen to have them?...

  I have come to change how I view those around me. Almost as if they are now placed into 3 groups. Trusted Not trusted, possibly tossed out of my life. Collateral damage I am not happy with myself over this.  To find I am cutting people out with more ease than ever before. It scares me, that I was flat out wrong.  That I thought they could have, would have been better. Am I the only one that feels this way? I cannot be, it would break something in me if I were.  There is only one way this ends, and we all know it. Maybe they were brainwashed?  I morn the fallen to come.  I more so fear I will be one, as I am outspoken, and as one friend calls me Brave.

I have this feeling that will not leave. It's not fear, but certainty, that something horrible is coming. More so than the, in comparison, small things we have seen. I find I am choosing not only how I dress, but what bag I carry, or that I now have to know where my journal is at all times. (Granted, I am writing short stories and such, but still). I fear if I do not think, weigh every choice, I could be a burned witch. (Yeah, I am waiting to hear of this also. I no longer question "IF" only "WHEN") These are the things that help me. It is almost as if they have become a security blanket of sorts for me.  Yes, there is ALWAYS at least 1 weapon in my bag. Most of the time more. I have debated having a sigil tattooed on me that would hide me from those that seek to harm. I am just so unsure; this is not a feeling I am used to. I am not alright. How could any of us be, when we "see", " know" what others willfully ignore?

 I am a child of history; we all are in some manner or another.  I sat listening to the strong, beautiful souls that came before me.  I heard the tales of the things they did.  Of the ones that in the short lives they were given, do much good, created beauty where they walked.   Everything from marching to give women the right to vote, to burning their bras in Jackson Square!  I am proud to have come from this Legacy of living our Truth.  All the things that they lost, all the equally strong intelligent women we lost.  Why? Because there were reasons that were theirs, choose to have a pregnancy ended.  The risk that was infection, death.  The Fear of going to a doctor after? Even when the fever was ravaging them.  Due to my family line, I have the reasons, in their own hand. They range from being raped, to not being able to afford another mouth to feed.  Does this sound cold?  I do not care.  THEIR choices. THEIR...

 Why am I? Wonderful Question! I have wondered that myself more than I dare admit. {Though I tend to say I am seeking my place in the universe} Then again, don't we all? Guess that is part of why I am writing this, to find myself.   Maybe help others find themselves.  Know that they are not the only ones screaming into the void.  Maybe I am here to make you think?  I dare say that I am a wee bit mischievous from time to time.  What will be here you may ask? Why would you want to take the time to read it? I am not the one to ask. I would love for you to join me on this journey. But free will and all that.