"Behold, earthshaking inventions which are useless or obsolete within the same century-- the steamboat, the railroads; yet do you know what these meant after six thousand years of galley slaves and men on horseback? And now the dance hall girl buys a chemical to kill the seed of her lovers, and lives to be seventy-five in a room full of gadgets which cool the air and veritably eat the dust. And yet for all the costume movies and the paperback history thrown at you in every drugstore, the public has no accurate memory of anything; every social problem is observed in relation to 'norms' which in fact never existed, people fancy themselves 'deprived' of luxuries and peace and quiet which in fact were never common to any people anywhere at all…

"There is a horrifying loneliness at work in this time. No, listen to me. We lived six and seven to a room in those days, when I was still among the living. The city streets were seas of humanity; and now in these high buildings dim-witted souls hover in luxurious privacy, gazing through the television window at a faraway world of kissing and touching. It is bound to produce some great fund of common knowledge, some new level of human awareness, a curious skepticism, to be so alone."

-Armand
Queen of the d**ned

We are childlike, the lot of us. All of humanity clings to childish tendencies. Adults grasp the lie that they control everything, like an infant breaking into tears when a sibling touches its rattle. The elderly hold for dear life to the illusion that their retirement is a turning point, a chance to grasp the reigns of their life, to change it for the better.

Sitting with my head resting in the pillow of my arms, I watch the world streaming by and become nothing more than a silent spectator, a faceless child listening to the throb of the people around me. I listen to their gossip, their meaningless prattle and wonder if the only things that run through their heads are the troubles of the present and the future. I hear them slander one another, curse their brothers, throw fits when they are hindered by road blocks in their life. They busy themselves endlessly, pursuing their wants and desires, closing their eyes to everything around them and focusing their gaze upon a single subject.

Perhaps I am blessed. Perhaps the lack of truly wanting for anything has opened up a way for me to see passed the blinders of others. It could be that, because I have everything that I want and can easily obtain everything I want, I am able to not worry so much about the things that they worry about. I am not caught by the ebb and the flow. I am free to exist in this whimsical and thoughtful lifestyle. Free to throw myself head first into trying to genuinely understand what it means to live.

And I don't come out of things unscathed of course. I am considered an oddity to those who don't personally know me. They say that I'm strange, they think that because I look the way that I do that I'm not worth talking to, they think that because I'm quiet I have nothing to say. None of it is true of course, though I do agree that I am an oddity.

Fitting in was something that I was never really able to accomplish. I managed for about a year to live the life of one of the popular girls and I came out of it miserable. They lived their lives through cheap friendships and trends that never lasted more than a month. I couldn't stand it. The talking behind one another's backs, the stares if one little hair was out of place, the conceited laughter when someone who looked a little different walked by.

I had to leave it. I couldn't cope.

I think that when I joined with Christy and her gang in the lifestyle of covens and bondage to the eldest of the group, I used the older one's control as a crutch. I was wounded and recovering from the lifestyle that I had previously become accustomed to. Like a daughter of Eden I fell from the garden and was taken in by the children of the wilderness. They garbed me in black, they worked the curls from my hair, they tempted the old kindness back into my heart. The coldness that had come from living like everyone else just melted away.

Acceptance. They accepted me the way that I was. My faults, my anguishes, my strangeness. I was praised for being different, for being who I was.

Never mind the other poisons that they unintentionally fed me, they didn't know what they were
doing. What was important was that they loved me, they showed me that I could flaunt my gifts, that I didn't need to conceal them any longer. I was envied. I was sought after. For once in my life the need to belong was satiated. I was loved.

Even now, after four years, the children of the covens still come back to check up on me, to make sure that I am alright. Those cherub faced demons with slanted eyes and stick straight hair were the ones who truly healed my sorrow.

And in the two years that I spent with them, they showed me that I didn't need to adhere to the world the way that the norms stated. The elder took me in his arms and spun me around when I told him that I was better, when I thanked him for healing me. He embraced me. When I was ready, they let me go.

In the first year it was hard. The change from the black to the creamy lace was a tough transition. People stared at the girl with the tousled mop of hair, they looked on incredulously at the stockings and the brilliant eyes makeup. I was different, but the elder made sure that someone was always with me and they took care of me if someone tried to start anything.

Rising on the clouds of my new confidence I courted my new way of living and dared anyone to contradict it. Some did, but they meant nothing to me, just dust in the wind. Even their harsh words no longer echo in my heart.

Things would happen of course. My confidence and my new found arrogance brought me to a more painful downfall later on. I lost everything in the span of one winter and only now am I beginning to collect the pieces of myself that were scattered. Over that time I became once again that lonely figure, fighting to fit in. It made me weak, it made me shy, it made me afraid.

I am still all of those things, but I don't care very much about it anymore.

We are all childlike in a way I suppose. I throw away my fears, but cling to my weakness. My self doubt, my selfishness, my need for a confidant…. I am the eternal child after all. Yet, I find that I simply don't care much for any of it. I've felt it all before, so all of those feelings, all of those emotions are simply the palest shade of what I once endured.

I am allowed to exist in this childish state of mind, simply watching others live. I like to watch them make mistakes, I like to watch them make good decisions, I like to watch them grow. Leaning forward with my chin in my palm, I take the time to listen to the poetry that every life begins to spell. I quite enjoy the lyrical limbo that most of humanity has fallen into, the endless sameness, and I quite enjoy watching them crawl out of it.

I think that I do this, not because I am being judgmental or hypocritical, but because I feel that perhaps by watching others, I can somehow save myself. There is a retribution that I need to find as a person, as a single being. I am watching and waiting. I have confidence that the answer to the unknown question that my soul is asking, will be revealed to me in time, as all things must.

Confidence. Patience. I will watch and I will wait.

-Lauren
April 9, 2007