Unwavering.

I saw it approaching weeks ago. Perhaps months ago, even. I am losing everything. Part of me ceases to care and instead looks upon this with sublime resignation and perhaps relief. If there is nothing that can be done, then I feel less at fault for doing nothing about it.

There is a small, detached part of me that oftentimes lies dormant. I scarcely realize I hold it within. Some might think of it as the antithesis of the fight-or-flight response. I sense it only when I feel that there is nothing in my control any longer, and I feel it now. Between negotiations, Aquilin, the Gate, caring for the small ones, rebuffing Malcolm, keeping a constant eye on our internal security and the trivial, day-to-day issues that arise, I also must contend with the Outside, and the additional dangers confronting us there. Work, school, trying to maintain the act. It was easier when the Host was unaware; things occured and there were no explanations needed. Now she wishes to not only know everything that occurs, but the reasons behind it, and she has even requested to be made a part of the decision-making process. I find that wholly unrealistic.

In the meantime, I sense other things that may prove problematic. I hesitate to speak of them as often my paranoia speaks without reason. I will wait, and watch, and react if need be.

Lo rivettè nam kuidas ne çiisó olanno. Neve nai sirnè bejsce ilanen sante kuidas? Lo matte. Nai sirnó isanta, nai penttù sorenni, piro kesen nai bisjè retuin, sonaese.

Something incredibly familiar.

I believe I have posted this once before, perhaps, as it seems more familiar than it should. I am uncertain why I feel this way; in my heart I know the truth, and yet seeing it plainly leaves me with a sense of surprise even now.

None of us are entirely certain the religion fed to us at the young age. It seems less one religion, and more a smooth mixture of several. It appears that many were studied, and the applicable parts were cut and pasted together to form what would suit them best. I see aspects of Catholicism, aspects of Egyptian Gnosticism, aspects of Wicca, yet the overall feel of this particular belief system seems more to be Pagan in the roots with Christianity thrown atop it to mask the true nature. This is not to say that Pagan-based faiths are inherently evil or even wrong. Rather, those who created the beliefs fed to us took what they needed from each and discarded the rest. That is dangerous in any faith.

I am not certain why I continue to search passively for understanding. It is dead to me now, and the past lies far from me. However, I also feel that perhaps, knowing the truth and reasoning behind it all would open doors now locked to me, doors that would help with combatting what we face even now, Inside. Many of us are still rather fractured, and there is something missing. Were that I knew what it was, I could seek it out and present it, so that Nambiet could flourish. Instead, I am aimless, much like the rest: it behooves no one.

The Light of God still eludes me. Perhaps that is what I seek, truly, to be close again. I wonder if, perhaps, I ever was. I was told once that if one loses one's faith, one never truly had it to begin with. I would like to think I did, once. I would like to think that moments spent in perfect solitude were not in vain. I would like to think that I am incorrect, completely, and any moment a bright spark of understanding and belief might fill me, and I will no longer be the dry husk of a Beast I am now. Even in that, I am fading. Something feels amiss, and it is a feeling I cannot shake.

Stoicism lost.

Years ago I was far stronger, I could adapt easily to change and to extreme situations. I handled such things with ease, and with a fiery stoicism. No matter my condition, I always knew I could count on that. Now, however, I am losing it, and it worries me. I have spent so much time investing in that calculated response that now I find myself uncertain to react properly or appropriately. I am quick to anger, moreso than before; my patience is thin, and my ability to avoid has lessened as well. I want to recapture that.

However, I was told that all things of my old self must fall away. I cannot manintain stoicism and also bury self-destruction. It was suggested that one is the cause of the other. I can see that as a possibility, but there must be a way.

More later: something has come up.

The "Font of Life" Project.

Otherwise known as "Lebensborn", this was a project carried out by Nazi powers throughout Europe several decades past. I find it unsettling that such massive undertakings are still considered something to be kept hidden. I bring this to attention because after so many years, the children involved in this project very recently had an official meeting to meet one another and to discuss amongst themselves the effects this project had upon them.

I cannot imagine the revelation of one's past, to know that it included kidnapping and being placed with a "more suitable" family for the good of a regime. And, on that note, sometimes I find it shocking that some are so very functional with devastating knowledge, when others can fall apart with knowledge of incidents less severe. I am familiar with Van der Kolk's Trauma Theory, of course, but it is fascinating nonetheless. One might wonder if environment or upbringing might have something to do with it.

[Borrowed]

I find myself thinking back to this, yet again. The events in the Reformatory are ones few would want to know, really. Many of those incidents I expected. Some, I did not. Were it that I could relate them with no tether to emotion, then it would be easier. Instead i find that there come times that I want to write of it, simply to purge myself of it, but I know that is bother dangerous and, as I said before, weak. I know you do not agree. When I discuss incidents that have occured to the body it
feels less invasive; I was there, but I can say that it occured to the body, and not to me. Not all Inside use that distinction, but I find it helps. It is less intense.

I have decided to take a leave. If I do, it would be to investigate. The Rahkas are reputed to come through a gate, and I believe Piers originally came from that same gate. Malcolm insinuates that he knows of others, as well. I need to learn of it, where it is, the purpose and if necessary, how to destroy it. This, of course, would take quite a lot of time to implement but I believe it a necessity.

And yet, even as I plan this, I know instead that it will likely not come to pass. My duties will come first, as always, and the battle to come will occupy me. Perhaps that is my problem: I allow myself to be overcome by such events in an effort to avoid others. I know it is a fault but comparatively to other faults I own, it is decidedly minor.

Scarcely noticed.

The night is close, and I think of both the ties to the past and to my near-fatal mistake, and how it ties inexplicably to Piers.. It is best to ignore and to avoid. And yet I must admit that I do not really care one way or another that it comes again. I want to sleep this away.

Crushed.

After a series of broken promises and lack of explanation, I have literally stood Idle and have watched a cherished friendship slowly fall apart. I want desperately to fix this but I am unstable, unreliable. I know this, as I have been told this is a major reason for others having ceased contact. It has not quite deteriorated to that level, but I fear that in my repeated attempts to keep her safe from my secrets I have given her reason not to trust me. I certainly understand I do not deserve her trust, but I was hoping this would be different.

The only way to save this is to be open. Being open involves speaking the truth, and there are quite a few aspects of truth that I would rather not admit to myself, let alone to another. But to be silent is to withhold, and to withold makes me a liar by omission. And yet, I feel quite strongly that to be open so is the quickest way to destroy a relationship. If ever I needed advice, this would be it.

Abstaining, completely.

I doubt that the title of this post is what anyone expects it to mean. I mean that I have abstained from abstinance, I have lost myself completely to the beginnings of my old ways. I recall my post on singletons and the necessity of checks and balances, as it were, in a person. I wish at times I were so equipped.

I am not certain if it is the residual stress giving by the Reformatory, or my own weakness, or the social acceptance Outside, now, of these things in particular, which will remain unnamed. I know only that I had done well for years in abstaining and for the past month, really, I decided I no longer care. Malcolm had a hand in this, but I shall take responsibility for my own actions. In the past week or so I have decided to make a conscious effort to remain calm, to look toward my strength and to what gives me strength but I feel I am losing those who have built me up. Of course this is my doing, but I worry it is so far gone that I cannot mend it.

What I despise the most is that I cannot seem to bring myself out of this. For years, and I keep severing ties, and those I do not sever intentionally are being broken unintentionally. Why I do this I do not know. i just wish I would have the mindfulness to end that behavior, now.

Mild desolation.

We are all weary. No one wants to fight any longer. Therefore, I try to negotiate. The problem remains that as men, we do not want to give anything up; we want the other side to surrender completely, and that will not happen. Further, I have felt for some time that this has become meaningless; I send my small ones away to safety while I make decisions that decide the fate of us all, and for what? They return, still, and nothing has changed. I have spent much time going over negotiations that will never work and truces that will never hold. I fear that I have found myself in a situation with no real solution.

My feelings of loss regarding faith persist, but not in the deep sense I felt originally. There remains only a dull ache, a reminder, and although I do not believe that there is no God, I believe that perhaps He is not for me. Not against me, either, but that perhaps I am inconsequential. It is something I need to speak about with a senior pastor, I believe, but am too afraid of his answer to actually go through with it. A part of me would rather doubt and wonder, than to know for certain and have lost hope.

I have few words. I am told I should not focus this journal on the goings-on of the Host or of Outside but rather of Nambiet. I do try. I find instead that it is easier to do otherwise.

A knotty situation.

An e-mail was accidentally sent from my account to a family member not knowing of our existance. The Host rectified it by claiming I am a friend but now this family member sends me scores of e-mails. I am really uncertain how to handle it except to play the part she designated to me. That, and to change my account's passcode.