Iridescent Spirits

Shelter of a constantly changing Soul.


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When I said I want to make my fairy tales reality I didn’t mean I wanted to end up as the Monster in the Forest…

I know I’ve been waaay too much away but I had my reasons. Writer’s block would be here a lame excuse and in fact this time, this is not what it’s all about.

I’ve been struggling both as an introvert and also as someone who fights mental illness secretly and all alone. It’s not enough that panic disorder and all mental illnesses are heavily stigmatized they are complex and living their own lives while creating newer and newer hardened by time problems.

One of this in my case is that heavy compulsion for conformity of mine. I’ve always been the weakest of the pack wherever I’ve been and the one who obeyed even if I didn’t want to. The other day, someone actually told me (after a few days of acquaintance) that I’m a type who can easily be used so not to be surprised if I am getting stepped on. The other thing is that I never trust anybody, so I speak the least of my personal problems, even the least ones. I am simply afraid of people, labelling me as a weenie, like they had done it so many times in the past. I am afraid that no one understands me, as even my closest people, who are well aware of my disorder, acts like as if I had no special problems, only a little of sloth and stuff like this. In fact, it became incredibly hard to live this way. I feel like I’m all alone with this struggle and sometimes I’m terribly afraid that I could go mad in any minute. I’ve picked up an extremely (and sometimes aggressively) defensive attitude, avoiding any confrontation, and being highly conscious of picking the words I say that could not be misunderstood so easily. In other words I am afraid of being myself. I feel like I am like a thin glass that could be shattered by even a gentle breeze, and I’m fed up with this.

The other day, or maybe weeks ago, I don’t know now, I found a great post shared by luckyottershaven, about sensitive people. It is a great article telling everything that needs to be known about these kind of people way better than I ever could, I highly recommend it, if you’re interested you can read it here:

“How Highly Sensitive People Interact with the World Differently”

The other thing with my high sensitivity and the one that has something to do with my decline in blogging, is that I’ve been suspecting for a while now, that I am working with a narcissist, in twelve hours a day. Most of you know well that how abusive narcissists are and if you read the article above, now you see how mentally tiring and destructive it is for me. I’m not complaining I just had to give it out. I’m tired and angry. I would be really happy if people could be more considerate towards others, not only towards people with mental illness but also towards all of us.

Because after all..

mad


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Labyrinth Chase

Steep concrete road leading somewhere high, so sleek I couldn’t find a handle that would help me climb. On the sides of the road people were cheerfully chatting no one desired to help me and I insisted on remaining unnoticed. Finally reacing the top there was a huge nice house so big and compound I couldn’t decide where to enter.

First, a little wooden house greeted me with its neatly arranged simple but warm design. The only one room it contained seemingly served as a doorman; greeting those who wander there and lead them inside to one room after the other. It was pretty and inviting yet an emptiness designed its aura.
The backdoor led to a calm and beautiful little forest, as if I was taking a trip with my classmates. Leaving the woods behind the scenery and the atmosphere changed dramatically. There were no woods any more, no trace of life could be felt anywhere, except the distant sound of the people at the entrance, their joyful chatterings as if they didn’t even know what a strange phenomenon lies right aside their feets.

My journey to the myterious complex went on silently like a thief when sneaks into a house to rob the treasures of those who are sleeping sound. But instead of a dark nightly feeling, the sun shone brightly shedding light on my steps to places unknown.
Rooms lied ahead of me, empty and lifeless waiting for someone to explore their secrets.
Behind a huge old and decayed door deathly silence prevailed wherever my steps took me. After some neat but plain rooms with disused furnishing narrow tunnels led me to an even older room. To get there a hidden door opened in front of me to see dust and useless scraps dancing with the holes on the walls. I had a mate on my journey, a shapeless self foloowing me as a shadow, and both of us knew well where woul lead us our next steps.

But then as we decided on going deeper we could hear the angry noise of the earlier joyfully chatting ignorant people. We hid behind a tatty sofa and tried our best to flee through another hidden door. Opening a door there was another little and shadowy room with no exit only a little window to go through. We crawled and then arrived at a dusty and dark place, this time there were even no windows. Stepping a few ahead thin but long wooden rods were lined up with huge emptiness around them and beneath light and clear air prevailed.
Hearing the people getting louder we crawled on the rods and let us fall down.

Landing on a wooden a floor I realised that now I was completely alone. Self disappered somewhere without me noticing it. But it didn’t really bother me because the place I finally reached was an incredibly empty, abandoned yet peaceful area. It was the temple, the heart of the labyrinth. The temple was all wooden and had no furnishing in it. No tables, no statues or painting on the walls. Yet the back wall was full of glass letting the sunshine in. There was no entrance of the temple only sliding doors on the side of the glassy wall leading to an abandoned, once lovely garden. Sometime in the past one of the sliding doors was left open and through time the dry leaves were swept in making them the only inhabitants of the temple. The angry noise of the people got louder and louder with every step I took further. For some reason they didn’t want me to see what was in the empty labyrinth. Yet I wanted to be there. I stepped out into the garden to see the old-fashioned garden furniture deemed to fade and a nicely constructed little pool with beautifully crafted tiles. All of them were dusty, dirty and the patterns of them started to fade away. A little pond was also there with lively fish inside and nobody knew how they anaged to survive for this long time. Dead leaves covered them as if they were their guardians trying to protect them from the harmful effects of not being taken care of. And finally I was there.

Interestingly enough, the temple opened to a huge and outer space, from the hill where my journey started nothing of these could be seen. Getting my time running out all the people out there were close to the hidden room that led secretly to the temple. Except me, everyone knew, where to get inside. Except me everyone knew where to get outside. The garden I was in did not lead anywhere. I came in through hidden doors losing my sense of time and place along the road. The people were hammering at the door and yelling. Against my will, I finally found another uphill, this time it was soil and wet really really hard to climb. It took me to the entrance, the little wooden house that greeted me when I entered the palace. The little passage avoided the concrete road that led me inside.

On the sides of the road people were cheerfully chatting no one desired to help me and I insisted on remaining unnoticed. They were the same people, the same who chattered, the same who yelled and chased me out. And right when I got out I realised that I completely forgot the way I took to the temple, and even forgot about what I’ve seen there.

Pic from Pinterest

Pic from Pinterest


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Let the Monster Out

Loss does not have to be bad. Losing of something that you had throughout a longer period of your life – or even for the most part of it – is always hard but not necessarily bad.

The reason why it is hard, it’s because that thing has grown into you so much you start fear losing it. I believe this is the same with that so-called comfort zone. Where you feel convenient, it’s a place that is peaceful and nothing bad can happen. Well, at least in theory..

The problem with the comfort-zone is the same as it’s good side; withdrawnness. It’s not only that nothing can come in, but you cannot go out of it too. Have you thought about it this way?

Locking things up in yourself can hardly be a solution to any kinds of problems, no matter what others say. The monster they warned you about. The one that can ruin your life with one movement from the very start of it. The one you were so afraid of that you closed it inside of a dark and frighteningly scary place on its own.

Just let that monster out. You cannot know what it thinks or how it feels. Also, you can never know what it will find once it finally sees the light. Maybe, you think it would only cause you harm but what if it was you who hurt that creature? Maybe that monster will be the one who answers your hardest questions. Just let it out finally.
Because, how do you know if it’s truly a monster?


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Cradle Nightmare

During dark nights, when everyone sleeps in silence, he, who comes without invitation, wakes the child. She sleeps in the cradle, though a bit bigger already, she wakes up in the middle of the night, for noises unknown. She stands up, clings onto the bars of the cradle, calls for her mom with fear, but she never comes, as she’s sound asleep in the room of the other side of the dark house.

The dark shape enters the house, takes its way to the children’s room. He slowly comes closer, the light of the moon shines through the glass of the front door, enough for the child to notice the uninvited figure but instead of making it clear to see, the moon gives him an even fearful silhouette.  The little girl trembles, cries for her parents but no one hears her.

All of the sudden, it’s silence again, in the pitch dark house, everyone’s peacefully asleep as if nothing has happened. The frightful man disappeared but the little girl cannot sleep alone for ever. Years pass by, no answers found, but during stormy nights the silhouette comes backs for his moonlit visits to scare the now adult child.

Now, the toys, that never existed, have been sitting lined up on an iron shelf, start moving at their own will. They start walking but all of their movements are staggered only to after one or two steps, they fall off the shelf lifelessly. Maybe, they were brought by the shady shape, maybe they were lined up there, in a previous life. Whichever the case is, they can never leave the shady room, of dim memoirs. Neither does the child, who is still waiting for someone to rescue her, in the cradle of frighteningly dark nights.


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The Panic Project #5 – Special: Meet Hugo

Talking about this  mysterious pal is one of the hardest,
Because Hugo is a character who could be understood the hardest.

He’s a simple guy, yet monstrous and disgusting.
He always appeares whenever I‘m not watching.

Despite his eldritch looks, he seems harmless,
I usually dismiss him, or I should say care more or less.

Though, he creeps ceaselessly into my mind,
Hiking on the mountains of my fantasy through day and night.

He howls, crawls, scratches and bites,
Not caring about the pain that reaches into heights,
Seeking for the sun throughout the endless skies.

These thirteen letters are my name,
Who is now the most hopeless, You or Me?

Next bit of TPP on 18th April 😉


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The Panic Project #4: The Doll House

The cool wind blows gently, flattering the dusty-white frills of my dress, but my fake skin cannot feel it. I am alive but there is no sound echoing in my chest. I can move my limbs, though everything is so big and far away, I cannot reach them no matter how hard I try. My breath gets quicker, though my lungs seemingly cannot get enough air in it. My chest hurts, though there is nothing in it. Only the unbearable weight of emptyness sits calmly on my shoulders. My bones would crack under it, though I can only feel the structure of a hand-made body relentlessly resisting any force.  

The whole world has become transparent and terrifyingly solid at the same time and I got lost in it. Like a huge cage, of which I cannot see or touch the cell bars.

Tears would roll down my delicate face but my shiny eyes remain as dry as a desert. When I try to speak my voice sounds like a far away whisper of a wandering stray ghost. I’m shouting but no one out there can hear me. I would run away but my short legs take me nowhere.

I am silent, sitting unmovingly with my emotionless face, deemed to ceaselessly wait for someone to take me with themselves. But who could be that someone? Who would want such a strange creature I have become?

This cannot be reality… Can it?

Next post on 4th April. Stay tuned!


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The Panic Project #3: Monsters

Crawling in the dark, he steals your most precious possessions without you noticing it.

His deformed shape sheds the most terrible shadows on the purest and most beautiful things. Even he’s walking with a drag he’s faster than her. She feels utter disgust in his presence yet he just crawls closer and closer to her and she cannot do anything about it. No matter how hard she is trying to back down he’s immediately behind her back. He let’s her feel safe for a moment as he is out of sight but as soon as she smells the rotting scent of the gnome, he stabs her right in the heart.

With the golden dagger in her chest, he lets her fall behind. While her blood fills the cracks of the stone floor like little red springs, he stands there doing nothing. And then, comes his master, the purest and most majestic yet the most obscure creature in the world. The exact opposite of the little gnome, his strong presence makes even the botched little beast be afraid.

She’s still lying on the hard and cold floor half-dead, half hearing the conversation between the two. None of them were about to help. All of a sudden, a monstrous face appears in front of her, she cannot decide if it is reality or imagination. Then, a gruff voice starts echoing in her head,

“Do you know who I am?”

Next post on 21 March. Stay tuned!