Firestorm RayvenMoon

Mind, Body, and Soul in Flames
2002-06-20 15:03:55 (UTC)

In The Beginning.....

Well, this idea seemed good at the time, but now I am not
so sure. I have been under a lot of stress lately, and I
think my guy is sick of me venting at him, so I thought
maybe I could vent through a diary. But, I am not the type
who is good at keeping up with things, and I have lost
every diary or journal I have ever started. So, I thought,
perhaps if it is online, I won't lose it. Heh... the
problem now is actually getting myself to write in the
damned thing.

Don't expect this thing to read like a book, anyone who
happens to be reading this. It is going to be a disjointed
collection of my thoughts, feelings, and struggles to
resign myself to 'real life'.

Now, on to the venting, bitching, snotting and whining.


Everyone does it, right? Dreaming that is. Everyone, when
they are young, has ideas of how life will be when they are
older. You, remember don't you. You think something
like "when I grow up, I wanna be a star!" or some other
such impossible nonsense. You have pre-set ideas about
everything when you are small. You have ideas about how
love should be, how school should be, how life should be
after school... the list is endless. As you grow, you
realize that your hopes and expectations are not going to
be met, but you have this hope that maybe it will get
better. So you weren't popular in grade school, surely you
will be liked in high school, right? Then high school
rolls around, and that experience is about as pleasant as a
urinary tract infection, but you think college will have to
be better. Well, college doesn't turn out as bad as the
rest, but you can't stay. You can't afford it. All the
lines that teachers have fed you about financial aid is a
bunch of bull shit, so you have to drop out and get a job.
You expect people to begin acting like adults, right?
Because they are, right? Wrong. The 'adults' are worse
than anyone you went to school with, ever. And the worst
of them always seems to be your boss, or someone in a
position to make your life a living hell. And, of course,
they always succeed in doing so. The magickal delusions of
childhood have been shattered into such small powdery
fragments that you can't even attempt to reassemble them.
And so you brood. You dream still, but now only while you
are sleeping, and those are not always pleasant. The
dreams that are pleasant are always erased with clinical
precision when you wake and realize that all it was was a
dream.

And this is why I write. I am Firestorm RayvenMoon. This
is my life as it appears to me right now. Flames engulf
the dreams I once had, I attempt to make consolitary dreams
to take their place, but natureally they aren't as
beautiful or wonderful as the dreams of my childhood. The
dark wings of the Raven, herald of messages from the land
of the dead, and keeper of the law, shroud my eyes.
Keeping me from attempting to see any farther ahead than
the next day. The Moon's haphazard light is all that
illuminates my way. Shrouding the path ahead in shadows,
and keeping me dazzled by shifting shadows so that they
path I am to walk is unclear. Perhaps, in writing here, I
can light a lantern, or even a flickering candle, to help
dispel some of those shadows and allow myself to advance a
few paces on this cliff-side path that is life.

)O(
Firestorm RayvenMoon




Ad: