D7 // AELIA CHARIS VANDERWELL [DONE]

”Do you want to play a game?”

”… okay that sounds fun.”

“I’ll ask you a question, you need to answer. It will be all about you.”

”That doesn’t sound fun…”

”Who are you?”

”… Err, I’m Aelia Charis Vanderwell.”

”No… I meant who are you, not what is your name.”

”I don’t get it…”

”It’s not that hard. Who do you think you are?”

”I’m a part of Him.”

”Who?”

”Him.”

”Who is he.”

”Me.”

When I was younger I would often stand outside for hours before dawn just to see the first rays of light hit the sky. I would always wait to see that light; I’d always stand there in my tattered pyjamas, and watch and wait for the light of the new day to come. I would always hope that that light would bring along with it a new life. I’ve always hoped for a new beginning, a new family and friends. But then every morning the sun would rise, and I would always be left there standing, with all my hope still wound up in my chest, still believing that one day it would all change.

But then I would be snapped back into reality by the sound of an awaking household. When the new day begins I start off with hope, but as that hops dies with the other flakes that I have lost I’m thrown into world that I despise and want nothing of. But slowly ever so slowly my parents are dragging me into there lives. They are slowly brain-washing me into believing something I am fighting not to be. I can’t escape. Like the ropes of a ship my life is like a tangled web, for a few days those ropes are so neat, and orderly, then when everything is starting to go well, and you’re having fun, a strong breeze comes and destroys everything, because you are never allowed to have that happiness. No matter how many times you lay out those ropes and redo them the wind will never grant you joy, or the time to relax. Why should it?

When you finally believe you have tamed the wind and the ropes, the ropes become frail and worn this and weak. Then eventually when you have stretched it too far it will snap. Then you are stuck. You have no escape. You have nowhere to run or turn, ad the wind knows this so you have to hide, but no matter where you hide you can’t. Eventually it finds you and when it does you panic, you try to fight it , but you know that it is better then you, it is stronger and more powerful and no matter what you do you can never get away. Because as they always say I’m weak, and they can do what they want with me. I am their daughter I must follow. I’m stuck. I’m worse then the man running from the wind. That man has more hope than me. I’m like the rope.

A toy doomed to break under pressure. It is what my parents made me. And so very slowly my mind has begun to wonder from me, like a long forgotten toy, that every once in a while you remember, or that name that always escapes you. My mind has begun to float and drift away from the presence of my body just like everything. And just like everything it leaves, nothing stays for long enough to leave an imprint upon my mind. Nothing is to special or delicate to stay and be harboured down in the depths of my soul where only I can find it. It’s is all too lost. Long forgotten gone. Buried below the surface, hidden from my view and grasp.

Just like my mind everything seems to be melding into one, the skinny figure that I am is becoming the same as the boy who, and the girls the siblings that live with me. The once brown eyes that had held so much life, love and joy have become so very distant and uncaring, but I still see them just as they were. The light within them is for Him and no one else. None of them deserve that joy that I hold for Him, my eyes my skinny torn and wearied body is for him. He is all I listen to. Maybe that was there plan, maybe my parents wanted me to become so lost that when I see myself I see him and that when I saw my siblings I see strangers. Shadows of what I use to be.

My mind is like a shell laying on a beach. For maybe a few days you feel safe in the knowledge that the crashing waves of sanity are away, as if the water won’t reach you and you can keep safe and sound knowing that you are free. But then that big wave comes and scoops you up, because you are weak, you have nothing, and nothing you can do will stop it. It pulls you back under, and you are dragged to the bottom of the god damned ocean where no one can find you, where it is dark and black and you lose ever part of yourself, because your mind is lost in that big expanse. It has no escape. It is stuck and it will be down in that deep depth for ever more, just like my mind. I’m lost.

Fragile me lost her mind, they all say it. I see the way they look at me. With their know-it-all eyes, the way they peer at my body. The thin scraggly legs and arms. The prominent bones and dirty skin. They try not to stare, but it is hard not to stare at me. But then again I don’t really notice the haughty looks, the disgust on their faces, all I see are people, no emotions just looks. Are they all alive? How can they be alive? They can’t be dead they walk, but they can’t be alive they show nothing, but the skeleton of a human. They don’t believe in Him. Hehe, how can they not, the person is right in me. Right there in front of them and they call me crazy.

I think the only part of me that I really take care of is my hair. I guess every person has to have a habit, something that gives them a resemblance of normality. My hair the glowing light on top of my head that shines and feels as though I have hope to escape the pain that is this life, and all my horrid thoughts of him is my escape. Although it is a tangled mess of my life that sits on my head I care for it. I comb it daily I use it to forget for just a moment about Him, he plagues my every thought and move, but when I spend the time I do on my brown strands I feel that for a moment I am that sea shell on the shore, and I am free. I am not below the depths of the ocean. I am happy.

Most of my life has revolved around the word Him. Most of the things I have and haven’t done have been shaped by the monsters my parents. They have had me on a leash, I have had no room to be the girl I want to be. Chained like a dog, no free will, dreams or hope. Just a short rein that gives me nothing, but false hope and the option to never fight, but always give. Some have asked me what is the point of living such a twisted and horrid life. I always tell them what choice is there? I have never had the pleasure of a dream. My dreams are all sold out.

Now I find myself stuffing all my emotions, thoughts and feelings into a little jar; a place where it might be safe, and free from the touch of the people whom call themselves my parents. Because as long as I have them hidden somewhere, away from me or the person that I call me they can be safe, and then perhaps one day when I am long gone and have left this awful land, I will find my buried dreams and hopes, dig them up and relive the love, the magic and the dreams that I have wanted. But until my mind is free, and the people that entrap me are gone I am left lost and aimlessly stuffing all of my heart into a jar. I bury it away from me, so my tainted touch cannot heart it.

Perhaps one day I will let the jar float away from my pain filled grasp, if my parents ever found it they would hide it and kill my hopes, because that is who they are, monsters, and yet I love them so dearly, they are the reason I know only Him, and nothing, but Him. Is that a good thing? Yes it has to be, for my parents have told me so, and that is all I know, only the truth that floats from their words, or the honey that is laced into each sentence they say when they speak of Him. The love, the power, fear and happiness that oozes from their voices as they whisper his name. If only that joy for him could be passed over just across the short expanse, and to the girl that craved more than no emotions and Him. To a girl who wanted her family.

To me silence was like a wall, it had built itself around me, wrapping me up in a home, but this home wasn’t safe, because the silence only went one way. Everything was against me. My speech, thoughts and memories were all trapped, they could leak out, but no one saw them, no one could feel the me when I cried, no one could hear my calls when I screamed. It was all about them; it was all about what they said and did to me. They never listened. Was it that I was just that renewable? So unwanted that all they needed was me to follow, and then they could leave me? But I am still a girl, and I still have my dreams wound up in the place where I know my heart is. Or has that left me as well?

As my soul sifts through the presence of what can only be called reality, it swims away from me, because it is smart. My soul is so very much smarter than me. It knows I am trapped and lost, it knows I have hopes and dreams and it can see that I will never get them. So instead of being harboured in a better so riddled, mismatched and pain filled it will leave, it will soar across the open skies -so much have I longed to do that- and it will leave me, more alone and shattered than before. If only my reality could become more than just a nightmare, than perhaps I might see, perhaps the dead that surround me would become a lot more real. But that cannot happen as long as I stay here.

That is what so many say, bowed down by iron chains. But my chains are not iron, but merely strands of my mind, keeping me tied to him and this place that I call home. But the power of the mind is far stronger than anything else. It can twist and manipulate what you see, just as it is doing to me, the quick unspoken girl who is held prisoner to her own free will. Maybe when I escape the stubborn part of me will fly. Only my childish side is keeping me down, the stubbornness that is me holds me back from escaping and being free. So it is not their fault I am still here. There is only me keeping me from running and joining the thing that so many call a soul. But I know that as long as my soul keeps running there will always be away to find it, that means I can be free. Just not yet.

The shy girl that is me hides. She is not brave, strong or smart. Everyone sees her hiding, cowering because she is so very scared. Me… I am so very scared. Everything around me appears to be nothing more than fear, and everything that I am not allowed to see, feel and experience. My fear of what is out there doesn’t keep me back, but the fear of what will happen if I go out there does. I’m scared that there will be repercussions, cruel, cold pain and hate. I just don’t know if I can handle it anymore. My body aches from the abuse, and I crave the need for rest and escape. But you don’t always get what you wish for.

But than what are wishes? I have seen no such thing. Huh. Wishes, they bring nothing, but false hope, the thought that perhaps you have the chance to do as you will, and that maybe the life you live, or your dreams won’t die, and wallow in the pathetic thing you call a life. Wishes. Fuck wishes. They do nothing. Nothing to ease your mind, nothing to spare you a minute, and perhaps make you believe you have a chance. They are false, fake and phony nothing, but a trap that those who want to steal you and your soul plant. Because wishes only bring upon, hate and pain. Every wish that I have hoped for has lead me to nothing, but a feeling of pain. Pain seems to be my only friend, the only comforting thought I have. Because my wishes took away all my hope, just like a candle, when you blow it out it is gone, and with that went everything good I had.

I’m one of those people who dwell on old dreams. I hold onto old regrets and hope that I can undo the wrong. More often than not bad deeds never go undone, cruel thoughts and dreams that have ended at someone’s expanse, plague us. They haunt me until I’m shaking from head to toe. Guilt plagues me and follows me like no other. No matter how much I try to push it away it never leaves. It is unlike the good feelings; it escapes my clumsy grasp and always wraps itself around me, threatening to strangle me in my own pain and guilt. No deed I do goes by without pain. There is always regret and guilt to my every action, bad always comes from what I do.

Slowly I have let the tangles of my mind open, and so very slowly have I spilt it all out on the open ground and I have let the wind carry it away like dust. As my mind drifts further and further away from me so does the emotions that hold me captive. Only when I am insane and not the person I once was, than and only than I will believe I am truly free.

A long time ago I was told the soft lie that life isn’t difficult, that dreams are meant to come at your will and hope and magic is wrapped around us, just as long as you know where to look. I find myself searching for it, I look behind me and in every nook and cranny I see, but I have never thought of looking forward, the temptation to do saw has always been resisted by the undying urge of fear. There is never any good with looking forward in the tangled web that is my life. In this place there are only nightmares and to see further on brings them closer and makes it seem all so much more real. So I stay buried in the past that is me, and in the present that brings new horrors, because it is always better than the future.

My life has always been short of enjoyable. Yes most peoples are, but at least in most of their lives they get that joy, or that smile that makes there day, or the gift that makes their world spin, or a kiss that leaves them breathless. Not many have been pushed to the boundaries of insanity in the short eighteen years that I have been alive. Not many can say that they have faced the rules and borders of a religion that leaves you drifting further and further from who you are. Well that is my life summed up in just a few simple words. That is all it has ever been. No wonder I am so messed up.

Most say that there childhood is laced with love and attention. But mine was not. The only love I received was prodding and poking, pushing to become one with our god. Because He was everything, He was so much more than their own children, He was worth so much. We were not. My parents slowly brain-washed me into seeing the man that they loved as my own, and I fell for it, because that was the only time they showed me attention and the love that every child craves. My mind melded into a shape that they prodded and twisted at their will. It became a base for them, they said I did. And slowly it made me go crazy, and the so well kept trendils of self-control that I clutched diminished into no more than fragile bearings, easily destroyed.

And as the insanity sets into the very depth of my soul I find that who I am is no longer what I want, the person I am becoming is not the person I once was. The days of sitting in a room and reading the rules, the days of sitting with my parents as they teased me and feed me sweet lies are all there, but the times in which I was me are slowly disappearing the ache of my lost heart grows in my with each passing day, but I’m slowly beginning to forget what that ache means. Slowly that ache is becoming something familiar, my only resemblance to anything stable and strong in my life. As everything spirals into the depths of the unknown all I have left it that pain. And I will cherish it.

All the hours in the house have let nonsense of realisation sink in, the world that surrounds me is much unlike my own, I dreamed of happiness and joy in mine, but the real world is not so. The hours I spend slaving away at a table, reading and reading, writing and reading and waiting for Him to help me, to lend a hand and guide me in the way my parents say he will. The days that I have spent trapped in isolation so far from even myself, those were the time I felt so lonely, I felt as if I was stuck in a place where not even my frail mind could save me. And still the days wear on, and my tiredness of my life sinks in deeper, and I still hide and run away from the door that would be my escape.

My life is a continuous circle, reading, listening doing as I am told, never doing what I want to do, because life never goes the way you want it to. Life is never meant for happiness, or joy, or dreams to be fulfilled. It is only meant for pain.My siblings fight what they can, but slowly they will follow, because He is the end, and without him we would be lost. Without Him where would my sanity be? Insanity is what this is all about and my mind continues it spiral into the deepest part of my soul and when my soul breaks free and runs my mind will go with it. It seems that I am destined to run. But running is not what I do. I will just have to fall, and wait for somebody to catch me.

All my life I have never been wanted, but insanity has opened its arms for me.